Need
by DestinyIgnites
Summary: Sequel to 'Seduction' / contains dark/sexual themes (that may be considered non-con)
1. Do Not Love

**Okay, so if you're reading this, it means you have gotten through 'Seduction' and like my writing enough to keep reading, so thank you for that!**

**(If you haven't read 'Seduction', then this won't make much sense to you)**

**Some things to keep in mind: **

**1. This fic will be as sexually explicit as 'Seduction'**

**2. This is an introduction-like chapter, so it is kind of easing you in to the second part of their story. Things will get a bit more intense (and maybe a bit more dark) in the next few chapters.**

**3. I am not even close to being a history expert. I do research the times a little bit, but be prepared for mistakes. If you are better with history than I am, and you ever see me make some sort of mistake, feel free to call me out and I will try to fix it! **

**Also, I'm really nervous, which has little to do with the story, but I'm sorry if you hate this! Please go easy on me, please? Okay, now with the story... **

**(it's late, so I will re-read this tmrw and correct any mistakes that I might have missed now)**

* * *

_"They do not love that do not show their love."_

_— William Shakespeare_

* * *

London, 1595

Caroline had been walking for hours, to ease herself of her loneliness, but it was to no success. Her road was lonely, too. The ground beneath her feet was slippery and she was forced to walk at a speed that was slower than she would have liked. She was now eager to go home (she and Klaus had recently returned to England, so home was now a large estate in London), although she knew there was little waiting for her there, at the moment. Klaus had gone with Elijah on a trip, as he often had, seeking information on Mikael's whereabouts. Elizabeth, while usually pleasant to converse with, tired her out with endless tales of gossip. There was little that occupied her at home, so she often walked, like she was walking now, along the snowy roads.

A man passed by her and gave her a gentle smile, jolting her out of her thoughts. She smiled back at him politely, not paying much attention to anything about him, and carried on her way. It was only with the sound of a loud thud that she turned around to see what had happened behind her. The man was down. He had slipped on the ice, Caroline understood, as she walked briskly towards him.

"Are you injured, sir?" She asked quietly.

He broke out in a boyish smile, looking up at her. It was a peculiar reaction to what should have been a humiliating fall, she thought. Perhaps he is not in his right head, she concluded. The smile was so bright that she did not think he was much hurt, until she saw him struggling to get up, clinging onto his leg soothingly. She moved forward to help him, but did not touch him. She kept her hands so close that she could feel the warmth of his body on the palms of her hands.

"Can I help?" She asked.

The man nodded.

She placed a hand at his arm, trying to lift him up. She was careful, pretending she was of average strength. With her help, the man rose to his knees and then to his feet, smiling through what Caroline realized was a painful fall. She let him go, once he was at his feet, and watched him as he tried the leg he fell on. At the sound of an involuntary 'ugh' leaving his lips, she sprung back to his side.

"My apologies," he said under his breath as he placed a hand over her shoulders, putting a little of his weight on her. With him limping on one leg, they made their way to a nearby bench and sat down.

"I shall get someone for you?" She asked.

He shook his head, stretching out his bad leg. "I will do just fine, thank you."

"I shall leave then," she said.

"I would rather you didn't," he replied quickly.

She stayed where she was. He was not looking at her, so she took a moment to look at his features; his dark hair and defined brow, and his full lips, which he proceeded to clench between his teeth. It was a strain, Caroline suspected, seeing as she could not smell the blood of a wound. They sat for a few moments and he had failed to speak.

"If you would like a silent companion, might I suggest a dog?" Caroline finally said. The man broke out into a laugh, which she, again, thought was rather peculiar. Her intention was not to humor him, but to make him dismiss her.

"Where do you come from?" He asked finally. His voice was kind and warm.

She made no reply to his question, and so they were silent for a few moments.

"I suspect a dog would be more eager to speak with me than you are," he remarked.

"I suspect a true gentleman would not ask a question, such as the one you have just asked me, to a complete and utter stranger," she replied sharply.

"I was merely trying to get to know the woman who has so graciously saved my life."

"It was a slip, nothing more. I hardly saved your life." She wanted to leave and so her voice was harsher than she had intended.

He sat up, no longer so consumed with the pain of his injured leg. "But perhaps, without your aid, I would have been unable to get up. Perhaps, I might have frozen to death amongst all this cold snow. You are my hero – an angel!"

He spoke with a light-hearted smile and she regretted her earlier harsh tone. She smiled back at him, mimicking the warmth of his smile. She would protest, telling him that she was not as angelic as she appeared to be, but his tone suggested he was only trying to humor her, so she did not form a response. She had realized now, that he was not out of his mind (as she had first suspected), but a genuinely happy man, with an infectious grin.

"You won't tell me where you come from. Perhaps you may tell me your name?"

"Caroline."

"It's a pleasure, Caroline. You may call me William."

A sudden shiver of guilt passed through her, knowing that Klaus would disapprove of her talking to William. She could hear his voice in her head, telling her that for all she knew this William lad could be an enemy. She knew better than to trust him so easily, and yet she longed to see his smile for a few more minutes. Mentally shaking herself, she forced herself to listen to what her head was telling her.

"It is getting dark. I must go."

He did not protest, but asked, as he watched her walk away, "Do you walk here often?"

She turned back for a second, and told him, "Yes."

"Shall I fake a fall next time, or will a simple 'hello' be sufficient?"

She laughed. "A 'hello' will suffice, should I see you again."

She carried on her way, the smile present on her face almost the entire way. Her dead heart pounded with an unexpected joy. It appeared as though his infectious smile had triggered emotions of happiness that she had not felt for quite some time. The encounter was a glimmer of happiness in her otherwise dull day.

* * *

She returned later than she had expected (stopping to help William had slowed her down) and made her way into the main room of the house, where she expected to find Elizabeth.

"Where have you been?" Asked a familiar voice.

A smile instantly flashed across her face, as she mentally matched a face to the voice. "Klaus, you're early," she said with affection, before she even looked up at him. _I missed you_, she wanted to tell him, but she didn't dare, knowing he would not approve of such affection. Nor would he approve of her running into his arms, as Caroline suspected lovers did upon reunion, so she forced herself to stay in place. Over the years it had become easier to hide her need to show him affection, although still painful.

He sent Elizabeth and one of the guards away. Elijah followed, so they were left alone in the room.

When she finally looked at him, he looked back at her with anger. Unaffected, she kept her smile as warm as when she first heard his voice and it appeared to melt away his anger at her lateness. The look in his eyes slowly became kinder and she knew he was waiting for her to say something. "Don't be angry with me, I was only out walking," she told him. "I was passing time before your return."

She opened her mouth, about to tell him that she had ran into wonderfully happy young man, but she stopped herself, thinking it may make his anger return. She wanted to share the story, as it had been a story that stood out among the otherwise dull day, and she knew she could not tell anyone. While she had grown to love Elizabeth, she never trusted her, knowing of her love of gossip and her curious nature. And she was not about to tell Klaus, feeling no need to ignite jealousy or anger when there was no reason for such emotions. After all, William was nothing more than a stranger, whom she had no emotional attachment to. She might tell Elijah, she thought, for he often talked to her and she trusted that he would not tell such a minor, unimportant, story to Klaus.

"I wish you would take one of the guards with you," Klaus told her.

"I don't like the guards," she replied calmly. "They watch me as though I were a child, whenever I take them with me. 'The roads are slippery,' they say, or, 'why won't you take the horse' – as if a horse would not slip on ice! And if I protest, they threaten to give word of my disobedience to you, as if I would not tell you myself. Do they not realize you do not scare me? You will not strike me or pain me, will you? I think not! So, if I choose to go on foot, without a horse, why threaten me? I can tell you myself of all my thoughts, if you see them as important. The guards are too protective!"

Somewhere along the way her calm tone became a tone of disbelief and anger. Listening to her ramble, he found himself smiling at her protests, finding it endearing. "That is what they are hired for, sweetheart," he told her, once she had finally taken a breath.

"To annoy me with incessant suggestions?"

"To ensure you are protected and to ensure that you do not get harmed."

Her eyes softened and she rid herself of her anger. "How was your trip?" She asked, changing the topic.

"Tiring," he replied simply. He was on a chair now, one leg over the other, resting.

He spoke in a manner that told her she was not to ask any more questions, as he was not yet ready to tell her. She knew he would, once he himself had processed the events that may have occurred, and so she did not mind waiting.

"Where are you going?" He asked as she turned to leave.

She turned back to him. "It appears you want to be left alone," she said quietly, successfully hiding her disappointment.

"Yes," he agreed. "With _you_," he added.

She smiled sweetly, stepping towards him. He pulled her onto his lap, with a light kiss to the side of her neck. She smiled at this, keeping her eyes on the fire in front of her, until she felt his chin rest on her shoulder. As if it were the most natural thing in this world, she raised her hand and placed it to the side of his head, allowing her fingers to intertwine in his curls.

They were quiet for a few moments, watching the fire. Caroline took a moment to appreciate that he had sent everyone away but her. Perhaps he did miss her, she thought to herself, if he now so tightly held her to him. If he did not miss her, he would send her away, too, she assured herself.

"Mikael is getting closer," he muttered, his chin digging into her shoulder with every word he said.

"Will we have to move again?" She asked.

She was saddened at the thought. When she left with him, that night, she had never expected to find that he never stayed in one place for more than a few months. It was entertaining and wonderful at first, but within a few years it became tiring. She wanted so much to make friends and get to know those around her, despite Klaus' rather strict warnings that she does not converse with anyone outside of his carefully selected group of trusted people. She defied his pleas at first, but soon found that it was of no use to try and make connections with people, as these connections would be broken every few months (she found herself easily attached to both people and places, and it always pained her to let them go). Her interactions were then limited to Klaus, Elijah, and Elizabeth, and occasionally the guards (one was named Jimmy and the other Richard). For Klaus this may have been enough, but Caroline often struggled with loneliness.

She had thought about leaving him a few times, but each time it seemed too painful. A few years ago, she had packed her bags, while he was away on one of his trips, but broke down as she reached the end of the street. She opened her bag and looked at what she had left with: a bag of coins, enough blood so that she would not have to hunt for days, and a few gowns. With this, she would have been able to make it on her own, she knew. And yet she could not get herself to walk past the end of the street. With tears in her eyes, she stood there for an hour or two, until she was no longer crying. She realized that day that she loved him.

On her way back, she wondered when this might have happened, but could not find the moment when her lust for him turned to love. She tried to think of a moment when she did not love him, but she could not find that moment either. It was almost as though she had always loved him, but she had only come to realize it that day. She had always thought that she would leave once she fell in love, distinctly remembering her promise to him, but she found that she could not. On a day that she could not recall, she began to love him so much that she could not find it in her heart to leave him.

That is what it was to be trapped, she realized.

To love Klaus was to crave, to need, so desperately, the affection that he could not give her. To love him was to be unhappy and happy in equal measure. To love him was to long for a day that she might leave, all the while knowing that she would not because, with just the single passing thought of leaving him, she could feel her heart ripping to pieces inside her chest. Now, she was trapped, and what was worse was that it was not he who trapped her. Rather, she had trapped herself.

"I know you wish to stay," he mumbled against her shoulder, taking her out of her memories.

"I like it here."

"But you have also liked Italy and France and any other place that you have called home, even if only for a few months."

"Do you never tire of leaving every place you come to love?"

"I do not love," he said abruptly, as though it was a dirty word. He removed his chin from her shoulder and leaned back on the chair, still holding her on his lap. "But I do tire of the road. Like you, I wish to stay here."

"Then let's stay," she said, turning to meet his face. "Let your father come after us, if he so wishes." She gasped as he quickly removed her off of himself, like she was an article of clothing that he no longer wanted to wear, and walked to face the nearby window. She had come to know this act well; the act of diverting his gaze when he did not like the direction of the conversation. "You have Elijah on your side, do you not?" She asked, ignoring the discomfort she knew he felt at her words.

"I wish Mikael dead, Elijah does not," Klaus said quickly. "And besides, he would not be enough. I need an army, if I have any hope of ending the battle alive."

"So find an army of men!" She exclaimed, as though it were that simple.

"Not an army of _men_," he said cautiously, still looking out the window.

"Vampires," she corrected herself.

"No."

"What else is there? A witch, you want a witch?"

"No."

"What then?" She asked irritably.

He turned to her then and she found the look in his eyes to be much more intense than she had anticipated. She held her breath as he came closer to her, placed his hands on either side of her shoulders, and forced her into the chair behind her. Bending his legs at the knees, he sat down in front of her, his blue-green eyes looking up at her. It was clear to her, as she saw a quick moment of vulnerability in his eyes (which left as quickly as it had appeared), that whatever he was about to tell her was something that was of great importance to him.

"What is it?" She whispered.

"I want —"

Elizabeth came bursting through the door.

"Knock, Elizabeth!" Klaus growled at her. He got up instantly and trapped his head in his hand, rubbing his temples with the thumb and middle finger of his right hand.

Caroline mentally shook herself, forced out of the moment by Elizabeth's presence. She looked to Klaus, but he now looked back at her with indifference (as he almost always had when they were not alone). She envied him and the ease with which he was able to control his emotions. She was still emotional from the moment, while he had moved past it within seconds. She looked to Elizabeth, who appeared to be so excited about something that she had not even noticed Klaus' earlier shout.

"What is it, Elizabeth?" Klaus pushed. "What is of such dire importance that you had to interrupt a private matter?"

"A private matter!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "If I may be so blunt, you have bedrooms for your private matters; have you not, my lord? This is a living room – a room for everyone that lives here, is it not?"

"Get on with it!" He replied irritably. "What is it? What is your news?"

"Shakespear's play is to be performed!" She announced in delight.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Klaus groaned. He made his way to the couch and buried his face in the palms of his hands.

"Romeo and Juliet," Elizabeth continued, "it is a tale of star-crossed lovers..."

"I must go," Klaus announced, "before I am forced to compel this nonsense out of you."

"You don't dare!" She snapped back.

"I dare," he replied, "but I am afraid my Caroline will have my head cut off for it. You are lucky she has grown to love you so."

_Love_. Caroline clung onto the word, finding it interesting that he was able to recognize and see love when it was expressed between people, yet, he could not see the love she had for him. Perhaps he did not feel her love or see it, because he did not feel the same love for her. The thought saddened her and she tried her best to take it out of her mind.

Klaus had left now, without so much as a kiss to her cheek, and she was left to discuss the tale of Romeo and Juliet with Elizabeth, who's energy had never wavered.

* * *

"It is a story of love and romance," Caroline told Klaus later that night.

He had stripped himself of his clothes and stretched his limbs on the bed, his form hidden between thin sheets. Caroline looked at him, admiring him. His look was softer now and his body relaxed. She liked seeing him this way; the way he was when it was just the two of them, with no one else. He was kinder then, more serene, perhaps happier.

She walked over to the bed and placed a wax candle at his nightstand. With a seductive smile, she sat astride him, running her hands along his warm chest.

"The story of star-crossed lovers," she continued. "They die, it seems –"

"I see nothing romantic in death," he interrupted.

"But it is a story of the love they shared –"

"The love that brought them to their deaths, correct?" He interrupted again.

"Yes, I suppose. But anyway, I want to see the play."

"Then see the play, you will."

She smiled at him. "With you?"

"If you wish."

"I do," she said warmly. "What did you want to tell me, before Elizabeth interrupted?"

He shifted under her weight, suddenly uncomfortable. He watched her look at him with such warmth that he did not dare risk the chance of turning her warm look cold. "I don't want to talk about it now. It's late," he said.

"It seems important to you, whatever it is," she probed.

"It is," he agreed. "But it can wait."

She would have protested, but he, very suddenly, took hold of her wrists and sharply placed her hands on either side of himself, so that she was leaning over him. With a hand on the back of her head, he summoned her to a kiss, which was soft at first – but only for a moment. The kiss soon grew urgent, to a point where she began to feel an all too familiar breathlessness. Feeling his hardness rather suggestively pressing between her legs, she briefly broke their kiss.

"Very responsive…" she noted with a smile.

"As any man would be, when a woman of your beauty-"

"You think I'm beautiful?" She interrupted.

With his urgency still present, he moved over her and trapped her between his body and the bed. "This surprises you?" He asked, finding the bottom of her night gown and lifting it over her head.

"You don't often say so," she told him. He was kissing at her chest and then her stomach and she closed her eyes taking in the sensation of his warm lips on her skin.

He moved back up to look at her. "I think I always make it quite obvious," he told her.

He did not wait for her response, proceeding to kiss her with unwavering need, until her breathlessness became ecstasy. They had kissed and touched and caressed until their bodies quivered from aching desire. With lustful moans, they were both brought to their release.

If she did not know better, she would think he loved her. He kissed her with a passion that she had only heard of in beautiful sonnets and stories, and he touched her as though she was something he cherished. Even as he looked at her, now that they were in the private corners of their bedroom, she could easily have mistaken his look for love, as tender as it was. And yet she knew that if she were to ask him, "Do you love me?" he would tell her that he does not, and she would believe him.

"Do you ever think, sometimes, that I might love you?" She asked cautiously, once they lay on their bed, spent from their exhausting desires.

"No," he mumbled sleepily into his pillow, with his eyes closed.

She paused for a moment. "Do you think I am incapable of such emotion?" She was careful in her tone, knowing that she was walking a very fine line. Her dead heart pounded in her understanding that with one wrong word, or a wrongly chosen tone, he might assume that she was proclaiming her love for him (which, although she wished to proclaim, she dared not).

"You are capable," he mumbled, "but not foolish."

Was she to take his words as a compliment? She wondered. He did not think her a fool, but she knew herself to be one. She loved him. She loved him more than words could express, and sometimes she thought she loved him with more force than her heart could fuel. He did not love her with the same force, she knew. If he did, then surely he would tell her, would he not? Perhaps he thought she was unworthy of his love. She looked at his now sleeping face, tears filling her eyes, wondering if there could ever be a worse pain than to love someone who did not dare (or worse - could not) love her back.

She quieted a sob with the back of her hand.

"Unlove him," she told herself. "Unlove him, if you cannot leave him!"

* * *

**Again, please keep in mind that this is an introduction/transition-like chapter, so there is more to this story than just Caroline wishing Klaus would love her. Like I said, the story will pick up in the next few chapters, so hang in there (please).**

**Please, please, review! I would really like to know your thoughts, because I'm actually so nervous about publishing this part of the fic (since Klaus and Caroline do have a little bit of a different dynamic here). I hope you guys did enjoy it and will keep reading :) **


	2. It's Dark Inside

**Guys, thank you so much for the great response to this so far! I really appreciate it so much and your enthusiasm means the world to me! I can't even put all my feelings on this into words, because you guys have just been so wonderful :)**

**I was debating on if I should say anything or not…but this is actually very likely to be a 3-part story. So, 'Seduction', 'Need', and then another part, which would be the final part of their story. This is my plan UNLESS something drastically changes and I change my idea for the last few chapters of 'Need'. Each part will be about 8 chapters (+/- 1). Anyways, I don't know if that makes you more excited or less excited about this story, but I figure I might as well tell you guys.**

**Okay, so onto the next chapter…I hope you guys don't kill me by the end of it (errr, I mean hope you enjoy it).**

**(EDIT!) ****WARNING: As requested in one of the reviews, I am letting you know that this chapter is dark and may make readers uncomfortable.**

* * *

_"Don't get too close_  
_It's dark inside_  
_It's where my demons hide"_

* * *

The next morning, when Caroline awoke, she felt a sense of contentment. Last night's sadness had disappeared with the night, at least for now. Klaus, as per usual, had woken up before her and was no longer in bed upon her awakening. Once her hair was arranged and her gown tightened to her form, she descended down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she found Klaus. He sat with what smelled like a cup of blood, reading a letter of some sort.

"Come bid me good morning," he said, without looking up from the paper in his hand.

It never failed to surprise her that he always knew when she was in the room, without so much as a glance in her direction. She walked up to him and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Good morning," she said.

Slipping a hand to her waist, he pulled her onto his lap. He moved her long hair from her neck. "I wish you would keep your hair up more often," he told her, as he kissed the exposed skin of her neck. Finding her lips, he invited himself into her mouth.

She could feel his movements under his breeches as the kiss grew more passionate, so she stood up from his lap at once. "I shall go put my hair up then," she said with a smile.

"And leave now?" His eyes widened.

"Yes," she smiled flirtatiously. She turned around and playfully unlaced the back laces of her gown as she walked. "Perhaps I shall change into a different –" She was cut off as he suddenly had her pressed against the nearest wall. In one swift motion, he lifted her so that she had to wrap her legs around his waist to keep from falling.

"You are a coquette," he said bluntly. He drew a short breath and ran a hand up her thigh, gripping at her butt.

She smiled at his expression, but before she could say anything he removed his hands from her legs, so that her feet were now on the ground, and took a small step away from her.

Elijah had walked in and Caroline quickly understood Klaus' sudden action. She fixed her gown and stayed where she was.

Elijah greeted her warmly, as he always had, and pulled out a chair for her so that she may join them in their conversation. Klaus gave his brother a look of skepticism, but made no protests, so Caroline sat down. The topic of discussion was Mikael, and Caroline was silent for much of the conversation. It was only once Elijah had brought up the topic of moving to a new location – one at which they could stay for longer than a few months – Caroline could not help but protest.

"I want to stay here," she said, with her tone more childish than she expected.

"If you stay here, you will be dead shortly," Elijah said bluntly, confident that his tone would end her protests.

"Not if Klaus succeeds with his army –"

"Caroline!" Klaus barked at her, effectively silencing her.

Elijah arched a brow, leaning back on his chair. "Army? And where might you find a doppelganger?"

"One will come about eventually," Klaus replied with ease.

'Doppelganger?" Caroline asked. She suddenly felt as though she was excluded from a much more important conversation.

"Caroline, please go change into a better gown. We will be going to see your play in an hour," Klaus dismissed her coldly.

"What aren't you telling me?" She ignored his dismissal.

"If I feel you should be told, I will tell you," he replied irritably. "Please, go change."

With an angry glance in his direction, she got out of her seat and walked out of the room, leaving them to their conversation. By the time she entered her room, she could hear the front door of the house close, making it clear that they had went outside to insure she would not attempt to eavesdrop on their conversation.

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror, knowing there would be nothing wrong with going to the play in the gown she had on. Klaus' request that she change her dress was clearly caused by his desire to exclude her from his conversation. Lately, she felt as though all he wanted was an agreeable woman by his side, not one that would challenge him or go against his word. It wasn't much different from what any other man wanted, Caroline understood, but it was still unlike her to play the role of a submissive, quiet woman. No matter how she tried, she could not get herself to fit into the box he had constructed for her.

She took a breath and bit her lower lip in a frail attempt to ease her anger.

* * *

Just as Klaus promised, they attended they attended the play. Klaus had mentioned nothing of the conversation from which she was excluded and Caroline chose to not mention it either, wanting only to enjoy the show. It was raining lightly, so Klaus took the liberty of exchanging their seats from those on the stage to those that were in the covered galleries, which would allow them to watch the play without getting rained on.

A lean, tall man walked to the very front of the stage, reading.

_"Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean…"_

"William!" Caroline exclaimed, suddenly recognizing the familiar face. Becoming aware of her outburst, she clasped a hand over her mouth, growing red. The man never wavered in his lines, but she could feel Klaus's eyes boring into her.

"You know him?" He asked.

She slowly removed her hand from her mouth. "No…I mean, not well…I –"

A woman to her side shushed her and Klaus reluctantly turned his eyes back to the scene.

Despite the tension that was created between her and Klaus, after she recognized William, Caroline still very much enjoyed the play. She felt immense sympathy towards both Romeo and Juliet and the tragedy that was triggered by their love. Above all, she found herself relating to Juliet and the fate of loving a man you should not love. She hoped her love, however, would not be the cause of her permanent death.

"Thank you for taking me," she whispered to Klaus as they made their way out. He had extended his arm to her and she held onto it tightly.

"From where do you know the man?" He asked, almost conversationally. He made an effort to ensure that this question would not come across as an interrogation.

Caroline hesitated. She had hoped that perhaps Klaus would have forgotten. She should have known better. Before she could form a reply, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to the touch, her eyes then meeting William's.

"Hello," he said warmly.

"Hello," she replied back, remembering their earlier banter. She gave a small curtsy out of politeness. "You are an actor."

"A writer," he corrected with a smile.

"Shakespeare!" She realized. "How could I not have understood earlier? Forgive me, I –"

"You did not match my face to my name," he interrupted. "I guessed as much from your rather distant approach to me upon our first meeting."

"And when was this meeting?" Klaus invited himself into the conversation.

"This is your husband?" William asked Caroline.

"Um…no."

"He courts you?"

"_He_ has asked you a question!" Klaus interrupted again, now more irritated than before.

"We met yesterday," Caroline answered before William could utter a word. "He had a rather humiliating fall and I helped him to a seat. It was brief. That is why I was late."

Klaus studied the man in front of him for a moment, momentarily wondering if it might suit him to simply kill this William lad. Perhaps he would find amusement in watching his blood slowly draining from his body, or hearing the rapid decline of his heartbeat.

"We must go," Caroline broke the tension. "It was a brilliant play!"

She tugged on Klaus' arm, forcing him to walk away with her.

* * *

"Why did you not tell me?" Klaus asked, barging into their bedroom and shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

"There was nothing to tell – he is just a man I ran into! I did not think I would see him again."

"And if all was as innocent as you say, then why keep it secret?"

"Because I knew this would be your reaction – a fit of unfounded jealousy!"

"Do you like him?" Klaus asked suddenly, turning to face her. "As a man, I mean."

"You're asking if he tempts me - if I might like to share a bed with him? Don't be ridiculous!"

"Do not lie to me," he warned angrily.

"I do not lie! He does not tempt me in the way that you do!" She spoke before she could stop herself.

He took a step back. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing!" She replied a little too quickly. "He's just very different than you are, that is all," she explained after a moment. "He is happier…he smiles more."

"And is that what you want – for me to smile without cause, like a bloody idiot?"

"No!" She yelled over his shout. "I have never asked you to be anything other than what you are! Smile – don't smile, I does not matter to me. You are the man I share a bed with and I don't expect that to change. I do not like William as a man, I like him as a _person_."

His eyes studied hers and she silently scolded herself for the last sentence she spoke, knowing it likely did nothing to sooth Klaus' temper. "He is a passing stranger, nothing more," she added.

They were silent for a few moments. Klaus had made his way to the window and Caroline sat on the bed, thinking about the intensity of his jealousy. Surly one is only jealous if they have feelings for the other person, she told herself. Perhaps his outburst was not something that should insult or anger her, but rather something that should reassure her, she thought.

Her throat was dry and she counted three of his breaths before deciding to get off the bed. "What am I to you?" She asked finally, with her voice quiet. It was a question that she wanted to ask for more years than she could count on two hands and it was now that she dared to ask it.

He made no reply. There was water on his nightstand, so he poured himself a drink and took a sip.

Anger, at his silence, was rising within her quicker than she could control it. "What am I to you? Am I a friend, a passing fancy, a whore? Give me a name!" She asked again, this time raising her voice.

"Caroline," he said in warning. "You're being emotional."

"Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go and never return?" This, she said calmly and quietly, taking note of his warning.

"No," he replied, his eyes never leaving his drink.

"Why not?"

He said nothing, wanting nothing more than to avoid this line of questioning. She appeared to be relentless in her pursuit to make him admit to feelings that he was not yet ready to acknowledge, and it angered him.

His cold reaction to her question pained her. With a scoff, she walked over to him and took his water. She took a sip and with a breath of confidence, very calmly, let go of the glass. She watched it as it fell to the floor and broke at their feet.

And that was the action that caused him to act on his anger. Very abruptly, he pushed her against the wall. There was a sudden fear in her eyes, but he was now too angry stop himself. "Do not mistake my tolerance for weakness," he warned, his dark eyes finally meeting hers, once again.

His hands shook from his anger as they tightly gripped at her arms, digging into her with such force that if she were human, he would have left bruises. His eyes were dark with rage, but she still dared to speak. "Why don't you want me to leave?" She asked again, still calm.

"Because you are mine!" He shouted.

"So, you've claimed me? I am yours the way that a _chair_ is yours."

"Oh, stop this nonsense!" He shouted again, stepping over the glass and walking to the other side of the room.

"I want to leave," she told him. The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She didn't mean them.

"Stop!" He growled at her. In a flash he took hold of her arms and held her to him, shaking her in his fit of rage. "Enough! I am not having this conversation!"

She flinched at the sudden action, and yet she still could not control her tongue. "I do not wish to be a possession. I am not a chair, I am not a table, I am not a favorite pair of shoes, I am not a _thing_ for your amusement!"

"Oh, I can assure you this is anything but amusing!" He replied without haste. "What is it that you want from me? I have given you far more than any other man would give you!"

Her mouth popped open at whats she considered an insult. "You think it is your jewelry I want?" She pushed him off of herself, took of her bracelet and threw it at him. She threw it with such force that, when he dodged it, it broke through the window. "You gowns!? You think I want them!?" She yelled hysterically. "Take them!" She stripped herself of her gown. "Take it!" She yelled. "Take everything! I don't want it!"

His anger rose to a point where only bloodshed might tame him. His entire body shook with rage as he watched her strip herself of every belonging he had ever given her until she was standing before him in only her shift. She hadn't taken it off, so he told her, "You forgot something, Caroline." When she made no reply, he walked over to her and in one swift motion ripped the shift off her and threw it to the ground, so that she was completely naked before him. "And your clothes are not the only thing that is mine," he informed.

The bitterness in his tone aggravated every nerve ending within her body and only fueled her anger. "Yes, how can I forget? I am yours, too, aren't I?" With a bitter smile, she ripped off his shirt. "Fine, then, _my lord_, do with me what you will!" She fell to her knees before him, her tears flooding her eyes, and pulled his pants down to his ankles. "Is this what you want!?" She screamed at him. "From the minute we met, this has been the only thing you ever wanted from me! For me to _please_ you, no matter if it pleases me! Fine, _my lord_, I will happily take my place as one of your many possessions! You have _always_ treated me as nothing, so why should I protest now?"

It was the last words she said that caused his emotions to shift from anger and rage to a bitter numbness.

He bent his legs at the knees and sat in front of her. With a sadistic smile, he placed a hand on her hair and sharply pulled down, so that she looked up at him. "You think I treat you as a thing – _a possession_ – you do not know the meaning of being such a thing! But if you insist, I will show you what it means to be as meaningless as a chair, and you shall consider yourself lucky if I ever show you as much affection as I show my favorite pair of shoes!" He sneered, remembering her earlier comparison. He let go of her hair and stood back up in front of her. He kept a hand on her shoulder, so that she remained on her knees. "Take it in your mouth," he commanded.

She didn't dare look up at him, understanding that she had pushed him too far and now he was retaliating.

"Do not give me your innocent hesitation. You know exactly what I mean. You want to please me – happily, you say – then do it!" He placed a hand on the back of her head and forced himself into her mouth.

Reluctantly moving into submission, she took in the tip of him. He took a small step forward, forcing all of him into her mouth. She placed a hand at the base, and ran her mouth up and down his cock, until it hardened at her movements. Moving her tongue over the moist tip of him, she looked up at him. His head was tilted back and she knew he was enjoying the act, as hostile and full of anger as it was.

"Stop," he said abruptly. She took him out of her mouth, and he forced her to her feet and pushed her to the bed. In a swift motion, he spread her legs and moved himself into her dry flesh. She cried out as he did this and, for the first time in all the times they had been together, he wasn't sure if the cry was of pain or pleasure. With his temper high, he was too overcome by his anger to stop himself. He thrust into her and she cried out again. He smirked. "The only sound I want you to make is the sound it takes so say _my_ name," he told her.

She wrapped her lips around her teeth and pressed them together, to keep from making a sound as he continuously pounded into her. She soon found herself wet, not from desire, but the friction of his cock roughly sliding against her walls. The wetness made the act less painful and more pleasurable. She whispered his name against his skin, finding that she could no longer keep silent.

"Good, so it isn't William you're thinking about now, is it?" He responded bitterly. "Say it again," he commanded, ripping open one of her veins with his fangs.

She whispered his name again, uncomfortable at his mention of William. Her blood dripped all over her chest. As he rapidly made his movements over her, the blood only smeared over her skin. An involuntary moan left her lips as he gripped at her hips and hiked her legs up. He thrust into her twice more and then froze, his eyes shut and his jaw clenched from the spasm of release.

He moved himself off her and she turned on her side, unsatisfied, humiliated, and still as angry as she was before the act. She covered herself with a thin sheet, which was stained in her blood. She tried to keep the tears from her face as he put on his clothes, standing on the side of the bed, opposite the side she was facing.

"Caroline," he called before leaving the room.

She said nothing, only buried herself in her pillow, suffocating from the emotions which tore apart her insides.

"_That_ was the first and _only_ time that I have treated you as nothing," he told her.

* * *

**Okay so, before anyone starts yelling at me, let me just say something: that scene _was_ intended to make you feel uncomfortable, but it was not intended to be read as a rape scene. I just really want to stress that, because I know everyone has different tolerance levels when it comes to things like this, and I know I was walking a fine line.**

**Please review, if you have a minute!**

***nervously walks away***


	3. More Damage

**You guys, thank you so much for the reviews - for all of them! I appreciate them so much and you guys just bring me to tears sometimes, because I never imagined that so many people would actually like my work. I write for fun, so this is just amazing! **

**Here is chapter 3:**

* * *

_"He's as damned as he seems._

_A tragedy with_

_more damage than a soul should see."_

* * *

Hours had passed and Klaus did not return.

With a sniff, Caroline wiped a tear that fell down her cheek and got off the bed. She pulled the thin sheet with her and wrapped it around herself, not wanting to wear the gown that lay on the floor, ripped. She opened the bedroom door quietly and looked to make sure no one was roaming the hallway. The halls were quiet, with Elijah out and Elizabeth nowhere to be seen. Tightening the sheet over herself, she quickly made her way to the bathroom.

There was a small mirror resting on the wooden bath. She took it in her hands, bringing it to her face, examining her bloodshot eyes, red from her tears. She couldn't quite recognize the woman looking back at her. It was not the same woman as the one which left with Klaus, in 1537. The features were the same – she had not aged a day – but the years of living with Klaus as nothing more than a woman who kept his bed warm had taken a toll on her. Lowering the mirror from her face, she saw the blood smears on her skin, over her chest. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his chest rubbing against hers, his fangs piercing her flesh, and the feeling of him moving roughly inside her. The memory was so vivid that she could almost feel pain between her legs.

"Don't you dare cry," she whispered to herself and put the mirror down. The tears she tried to keep buried formed a lump in her throat and it pained her to swallow.

She dropped the sheet to the floor. Taking a small towel, she dipped it into the water. The water was not warm, but she didn't particularly care, only wanting enough to get the blood off her skin. She watched the clean, cold water in the bathtub become colored with her blood, making it less clear. Her blood formed swirls in the water as she bathed herself, not stopping until she was completely clean.

When she quietly returned to her room, thankful that no one had seen her, she was met with the sight of Klaus sitting on the edge of the bed. She took a shaky breath, but said nothing. She couldn't tell him to leave – after all, it was his room more than it was hers, she thought. She took a step away from him, when he got off the bed and made his way towards her.

He paused from her sudden movement. "You're scared?" He asked cautiously.

"No, repulsed," she corrected, trying her best to keep her voice quiet. Sounding distant was easy after what happened, but sounding calm took an effort.

Without another look in his direction, she took a new gown out of her closet and stepped into it. For a moment, she thought about not taking a gown at all, but that would leave her naked, and she found that her need to cover herself was greater than her need to prove a point. She picked out the gown which was easiest to put on alone, but it still needed to be laced up at the back. Before she even got to them, Klaus stepped behind her. She took a step forward, away from him.

"Let me," he said.

She stayed where she was, and made no protests when he came closer and placed his fingers around the back laces. The alternative was to have Elizabeth lace them up, and she didn't want Elizabeth to know what had occurred. Instead, she made a conscious decision to suffer through the closeness of him.

"You washed," Klaus observed quietly. Her skin was soft and perfectly white, and not a trace of their act was left on her.

She said nothing, dropping her head to look at her feet.

"Was it me that you were trying to wash away, or the blood?"

"Both," she replied through clenched teeth. At her response, he tightened the laces so tightly that she let out an involuntary hiccup. She placed a hand at her stomach, recovering from the noise.

"Sorry," he whispered. It was barely audible.

She didn't speak, unsure of what exactly he was apologizing for; the laces or his earlier treatment of her.

He stayed silent for a moment and battled with himself, wishing he could get her to move past his treatment of her, without having to utter a heartfelt apology. He wasn't quite sure how to approach her now. He was used to breaking things, but fixing them was something out of his grasp. "You were not eager to…" he cleared his throat, "…be with me, in the way that you usually are. I'm afraid our little spat has left you too emotional."

She fought the urge to scoff. "It was your emotions that forced me to my knees," she whispered.

He pressed his lips together to stop from speaking too quickly. Reluctantly, he had come to the conclusion that she needed to hear an apology, no matter how much unease this caused him. "I apologize that such measures were needed in order to inform you that, on a grander scale, I have treated you well. I have treated you with as much kindness as I am capable of. It is my hope that you understand this now."

She didn't make a response, knowing that her words would not be kind if she were to voice them. His misguided attempt at an apology only angered and pained her. Feeling tears resurface in her eyes, she took a small breath, forcing them back. She would not allow him the luxury of seeing her tears. She felt his hands linger on her skin, softly, for a moment. She did not move into his touch the way that she usually would. For the first time in years, she did not want to.

Her silence caused him a tremendous amount of discomfort, adding to his understanding that his effort to make peace with her was of no value to her. "Say something," he pleaded. "You may call me a scoundrel, if you like," he added with a small smile, although he did not find any of this amusing.

"I cannot call you anything," she replied, stepping away from him, finally. "There is no name for what you are."

He stayed where he was. "You should ask my father – he has many."

"Do not play on my sympathies," she replied coldly, as she scanned the room. Finding her bag in the far corner of the room, she walked over to it and began collecting a few of her things. She did not have much and – now, especially – she was thankful for it.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

He was in front of her in a flash. "No." It was not a plea, but a command. He took the bag from her hands and tossed it to the bed.

The reality of what she was about to do was sinking in, making her feel even more pain. The tears she had been holding in had finally broken free, coming down each of her cheeks once she blinked. "I'm not giving you a choice anymore. I would rather have my heart ripped out than have you break me, piece by piece."

She looked away from him again, so he grabbed onto her shoulders. "Caroline," he approached cautiously, "You are very…delicate. I often forget this. My actions have angered you, I know that, and it is my actions that are causing you to act - quite drastically, I might add - on your own emotions. I wish you would see reason."

"I am –"

"I have no intentions of –" he paused, "breaking you – as you say."

"Liar," she replied sharply. "You _wanted_ to hurt me. You succeeded."

"I don't recall you protesting."

His grip was tight on her shoulders and she knew he would not let her go as easily as she hoped. He kept her in place, forcing her to consider his words. "Would you have stopped?" She asked, with a part of her genuinely curious.

"Yes," he replied with certainty.

She looked away from him, wondering if the response was a lie or a moment of honestly. He was a difficult man to read, so she had no answer for her silent question. "You made it quite clear that it was your intention to treat me as nothing."

"Only so that you would understand your value to me – to prove to you that you are _not_ nothing."

She stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. "I could have told you a thousand other ways that you might have proven that to me!" She spat out, finally.

"So tell me now!" He blurted out – perhaps for the first time, without thinking. "Tell me how to fix this," he commanded.

"Gladly…if you first tell me what it is that you're trying to fix," she replied bitterly and effortlessly. She watched him closely, and he did not say a word. The silence was like a dagger to the heart. Even in a moment like this, he could not admit to the slightest bit of emotion. She scoffed at him, turning to walk away. She turned back abruptly. "Do you think I am some sort of monstrous being? Am I ugly? Maybe, unworthy? Is it so difficult to—" she broke off, pushing back her tears. "You care very little for me—"

"If I didn't care, you'd be dead years ago," he interrupted. He silently wondered if such a confession might make her stay.

"So I suppose you expect a thank you? Thank you, for turning me against my will and forcing me to stay—"

"I did not force you to stay!" he interrupted. "You stayed because you wanted to."

"Yes, because I —" she stopped herself, practically choking on the air to keep from saying the word.

"You what?" He pressed.

She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. "You have no idea, do you?"

"What?" He asked irritably.

Seeing him so pathetically clueless, she wanted to tell him. She stopped herself, bitterly reminding herself that he did not deserve her love – not anymore. Maybe he never did. "Nothing," she replied quickly. She grabbed her bag and, again, in a flash, he was in front of her once again.

"Why are you so despondent?"

For a moment, she wanted to scoff or laugh because it was difficult to believe this was a sincere question, but he looked at her with such a genuine expression that she guessed he really was at a loss. In an odd way, she almost felt sympathy for him – as clueless as he was.

They were silent (it appeared as though he was giving her a moment to collect her thoughts before giving him a reply, and she took advantage). She thought about the many ways that the conversation could go, if she were to tell him the true cause of her unhappiness. Still, as much as she wanted to be honest with him, she was convinced he would see her as foolish and pitiful, if she were to tell him that all she really wanted was to have her love returned. He would laugh at her, she was sure of it.

"You exclude me," she finally said. It barely explained her unhappiness, but this explanation would have to do. It was the only explanation she was willing to offer him.

"The earlier conversation?"

She nodded.

"I was going to tell you when we were away from Elijah. I wanted to tell you yesterday, also, but Elizabeth interrupted –"

"Tell me now."

He let out a short laugh. "Not with you threatening to leave, I won't! What makes you think I am so foolish that I would share matters of importance to me with those who have no plans of staying by my side?"

It was like a slap across the face, his laugh, his words, and his bitter expression. "Fine, don't tell me," she replied quickly and made her way down the hallway stairs. She could feel him following her, but she did not dare stop.

"I won't beg you to stay, Caroline."

"I'm glad to hear it, my lord." She gasped at how abruptly he grabbed at her arm and forced her to face him, just as she had gotten to the main room of the house.

He held on tightly to her and she knew he did not want to let her go. It pained her, because she wanted nothing more than to stay with him and have the kind of romance poets wrote about. She wanted to love and be loved in return, and tears came down her face as she forced herself to remember that this would not be possible with a man like Klaus. He was what she wanted, but what she needed no longer rested with him. She understood very well that he had the power to break her, should he choose to, and she needed to leave before he did.

"Please, let me go," she whispered.

He felt a sharp, unfamiliar pain, knowing she wished to rid herself of him. Thinking of the many ways that he could make her stay, his pupils dilated.

"If Mikael makes contact with you, I want you to lie and tell him I'm heading south. Tell him you do not know anything else. Then, the minute the opportunity presents itself, I want you to run. You will find a safe place for yourself, somewhere he will not find you, do you understand?"

"I understand," she replied, taken under his spell.

"Then, you will run to a place where _I_ will never find you, because if I ever see you again – so help me god, I will never again allow you to leave me." He paused, mentally forcing away the uncomfortable vulnerability. "You will not remember that I've compelled you to do this."

"I won't remember," she repeated. A tear fell down the side of her face.

He blinked, breaking eye contact, and she stayed in front of him for a moment, lost. Getting her thoughts together, she asked for Elizabeth.

"She went out to pick some herbs," he replied, as though he had not just compelled her.

"I wish I could see her a final time," she said.

"I have no immediate plans to leave," he informed grimly. "You may come back, if you wish."

Silently, he hoped that if she walked through the doors of his estate, she would eventually return, as she did last time. He loathed himself, knowing that he would allow her to come back, should she choose to. He should know better, he thought. If someone betrays you once, you remove them from your life; it was simple. And yet he knew that, despite his better judgment, he would allow her to return a second time and a third time. More than anything, he hated the part of himself that so badly wished she would stay of her own free will.

"If I leave now, I will never return," she whispered so softly that only a vampire would be able to hear her, "because if I do, I will never leave again."

He forced himself to go numb. It would be better if she left, managed to convince himself. He did not need a weakness. He could not afford to have anything that could be used against him. Her leaving was for the best, he told himself. "Leave," he commanded walking away from the door and sitting himself down on the couch.

The coldness of his voice was like the sharp twisting of a knife in a wound. His eyes held an all too familiar distance, as they had when he forced her to her knees before him. His familiar distance sent a chill down her spine. The trigger of the memory forced anger to swell up inside her, making it easier to turn away from him and open the door.

Walking out, she didn't immediately see anything out of the ordinary; the sky was still dark, the wind was still strong, the trees were still covered with white flakes of snow. It was only as she noticed something from the corner of her eye that she looked to her left, and her mouth flew open at the sight of what was in front of her. Her breathing stopped and she stared at the scene, clasping a hand over her mouth. Tears invaded her eyes instantly, and she abruptly went back into the house and closed the door behind her. She blinked and tears now came streaming down her face. She pressed herself against the door, saying a silent prayer, hoping that once she opened the door again everything would be okay.

Klaus looked up from the floor, getting off the couch. "Caroline?"

Her eyes widened, realizing what it would do to him, if he were to see what she had just seen. All her anger at him was instantly pushed away, as though it had never been there at all, and her only wish was to spare him pain. "Please, stay here," she whispered. Her voice was shaking.

He walked forward, to the side of her and she threw herself at him, keeping him from the door.

"Please, I beg you, stay!" She cried. His eyes glared back at her with an ignited worry and she knew that, at best, she could only postpone his inevitable pain for a few short moments. He ran a hand through her hair and his eyes softened for a moment, his thumb brushing away one of her tears. For one brief second, she thought she could make him stay, but then he quickly moved to the side of her, making his way to the door. "Klaus, please!" She whispered, grabbing onto his arm and bringing him back to her.

Without a look in her direction, he shook his arm free of her grip and opened the door.

Unlike Caroline, he noticed the scene instantly. Outside his home was his favorite horse, on the ground, lifeless. Its head was detached, resting to the left side of the body. Blood surrounded the black stallion, oozing from the wound. Looking a few steps away from the horse, he saw a burnt corpse, which he instantly recognized as Elizabeth. Taken aback, unable to force himself into numbness, he felt his eyes grow heavy. With a breath, he pushed back his pain as best as he could. He could hear Caroline stifle a sob and he wished he could make her stay silent, but he lacked the will to utter a word.

Caroline looked to Klaus. He looked immobilized, as though he could not get himself to move a step closer, just looking at the horror in front of him. There was a letter resting on Elizabeth, deliberately placed over her face. She walked over to her. Removing the letter, she found that Elizabeth's eyes were open. Caroline gasped lightly at the sight and pressed her lips together, forcing her sobs to remain silent.

The letter was addressed to Klaus, so she looked over to him, silently asking his permission to open it. He said nothing, so she slowly ran her fingers through the creases and unfolded the paper. Her tears dripped onto it, smudging the ink.

"I should have killed her the first time I saw her," Caroline read quietly. "Love, Mikael."

_Love, Mikael._ Caroline repeated the words in her head a few times. _As if a man like Mikael would know anything about love, _she thought bitterly_._

She looked to Klaus again; his eyes remained on Elizabeth's body, and she could see him swallowing his own pain. It was as though he was suffocating on all of it, and still he didn't dare make a sound. She wanted to console him, to take away his pain, but she could not. How could she, if she did not even know how to take away her own? She cried, feeling herself torn between all her emotions. She wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare.

"We should cover them," she whispered.

"Leave them," was the first thing he said. His voice was as cold and sharp as ice.

"Klaus I—"

"Leave them!" He roared at her.

She jumped back at the sudden yell.

"You said you wanted to leave," he said, turning to face her. "Leave," he commanded. "Don't let this stop you."

Tears still flooding her eyes, she looked from the sight of Elizabeth and the horse to Klaus' expression. He looked at her with the most terrifying and heartbreaking mixture of sadness and rage, and she wondered if she could possibly find enough coldness in her heart to leave him now.

* * *

**Well...thoughts? **

**I don't know how many of you actually liked Elizabeth, but remember that there is an apx. 60 year gap between 'Seduction' and 'Need', and Elizabeth was with Klaus and Caroline for those years (actually, if you remember, she was with Klaus for even longer). **

**So...again...thoughts? Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Should Caroline still leave, should she stay, did you like anything, hate anything, TELL ME PLS!**

**Also, a bit of a side note - you might have to wait a little longer for an update than usual (like two weeks instead of one haha,so not that long). I want to finish my other fic (by that I mean finish the final chapter of my other fic) before continuing this next chapter. Plus, I need to write something happy, because writing this fic is emotionally draining (because of the sad/angsty moments, not because I don't like writing it lol). Just wanted to give you guys a heads up.**

**Oh, just in case anyone would like to know - part three of their story won't be as angsty as Need... So for those that don't like angst (sorrrryyy!) just hang on until the sequel to this.**

**Okay, so that is all. Until chapter 4 then...**


	4. The Shadows

**Have I told you guys how amazing you are!? All the people that follow and leave reviews, I cannot even explain just how happy you guys make me! ILY.**

**This chapter is longer than the previous ones…I wanted to split it up into two separate chapters, but I decided not to drag things out too much.**

**A bit of a side note, so that you guys aren't too confused when you get to this part of the chapter, is that I mess with Klaus' history a little bit more. It won't affect things too drastically in this fic, but a little in part three. You'll see when you get to it.**

**Oh, and by this point I hope most of you know that chapter updates are posted late at night...meaning you will likely find little mistakes. I'll read through it again in the morning and fix any mistakes I may have missed tonight.**

**Anyways, enjoy... :)**

* * *

"_Walking like a one man army_

_Fighting with the shadows in your head_"

* * *

"Caroline!" Klaus called, walking into one of the guest bedrooms, where she insisted on spending the night. He opened the door and placed a hand on her shoulder to nudge her awake. "Come on, love."

She opened her eyes, reluctantly. "What is it?"

He looked at her red eyes, remembering the sound of her crying herself to sleep, and pushed away the unwelcome feeling of sympathy that was clawing its way out of his heart. The last thing he needed was to feel anything besides his anger towards his father. His anger fueled him, it protected him. He refused to let even the slightest moment of kindness weaken this.

"You need to get dressed," he told her, with his tone as casual and calm as he could manage. "I'll be waiting in the garden," he added, walking out of her room.

She stayed sitting on the bed, wondering why he did not sound distant or angry. He sounded okay, and it wasn't that this upset her but that it struck her as odd. Yesterday, she saw his torn expression; she saw that he was in pain. Today, he acted as though none of it happened.

Getting out of bed, she picked out a light pink gown; it was one of her more simple ones. Before she could even set it down on the bed, a young woman came bursting through her doors, making Caroline turn abruptly to the noise.

The girl was breathless, nearly tripping over the skirt of her dress, making Caroline's eyes widen in surprise. She took a brief second to look at the young girl; she looked to be about fifteen, her eyes round and blue, her cheeks flustered, and her hair brown and curly. What overpowered her appearance was the distinct sound of her rapid heartbeat. Caroline could hear it practically pounding out of the girl's chest.

The girl swept into a deep curtsy, her nose almost touching the floor. She nearly lost her balance on the way back up.

"You don't need to do that," Caroline replied quickly.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl exclaimed rather loudly. Her face went red and she looked painfully embarrassed.

"That's alright," Caroline assured her, instantly feeling bad that she was the cause of the young girl's embarrassment. They stayed silent for a moment as Caroline waited for the girl to introduce herself. When she did not, Caroline asked for her name.

"Oh!" The girl practically jumped up. "My name is Mary. I am to be your maid, as Lord Niklaus ordered."

Caroline's mouth popped open, but no words came out. Elizabeth had not been gone a day and Klaus had already replaced her. Did he feel nothing at all? No, he must feel something, she told herself. After all, she saw his broken expression at the sight of Elizabeth and the horse lying dead before him. So why would he be so quick to find a replacement? She wondered.

"Are you alright?" The girl introduced on Caroline's thoughts.

"You need not worry," Caroline replied under her breath. She looked at Mary again; she was shaking – she was nervous, Caroline guessed. "Do I frighten you?"

"No."

"Has Klaus said anything to frighten you?"

"I don't dare speak about him," Mary replied quickly.

Her shaky response was all that Caroline needed, to understand that Klaus had frightened the poor young girl to the point of involuntary trembling. It angered her. "Would you please help me?" she asked, gesturing to her dress.

* * *

Caroline walked out to the garden. Klaus walked idly along one of the paths, his hands held at his front, his back straight and confident, and his chin raised up. He looked ready to take on the world and Caroline could not believe her eyes; it bothered her that he cared so little for the death of his friend.

"You hired a new maid," She said, making her presence known.

"Yes," he replied calmly, as if he knew exactly how long she had been standing there, watching him. "You have chosen to stay here, so I have chosen to act kindly and give you your own maid. She is yours, compelled to do whatever you ask. She is to run any errand you have, seeing as you are not to leave the house."

"I am not to leave the house?"

He finally turned around to face her. Not taking his eyes off her, he sat down on a nearby chair and placed one leg over the other, casually. "It is for your own good, sweetheart. The house is spelled, so that Mikael may not enter the property. You have seen what happens to those who leave."

"I may not leave…just as Mikael may not enter? You've imprisoned me? We are playing this game again?"

"You are free to leave – there is no spell that will prevent it," he replied reluctantly. "It is my hope, however, that you are smart enough to realize that you are safest on these grounds."

"And what makes you think he will not burn your house down?"

"Ahh," he raised a finger, "a few helpful witches have cast a spell to prevent it. He will not find a witch strong enough to break the spell, of this I am confident."

"Of course," she whispered in reply, slightly resentful. "Why are we out here?"

"Yesterday's events have brought something to my attention," he replied matter-of-factly and got off his chair.

_Yesterday's events,_ Caroline echoed in her head. The carelessness of his tone sent a shiver up her spine. "What would that be?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"You're angry with me."

She scoffed. "Stating the obvious, are we?"

He glanced at her, smiling slightly. "I believe I can help alleviate your anger."

"I don't believe so."

She watched as he took a few steps toward the outside table. On the table, there were a few long-bladed swords, none of which she had noticed until now. He took one of them and gave it to her. Cautiously, she took it. It looked so sharp that even the lightest touch to the blade would pierce the skin.

She looked up at him. "You want me to…wound you?"

He smirked. "I want you to try."

"No," she replied without hesitation.

The reply surprised him. For a moment, he thought of what he could stay to convince her, but decided that action was more powerful than words in this particular situation. He drew a long breath. Looking at her, he took one of the swords and ran his finger along the blade so that it broke his skin and drew blood, wordlessly showing her just how sharp the swords were. She looked at him with complete confusion, and without warning he aimed the sword at her, targeting her neck. She dodged it effortlessly, making him smile. "There's a good girl."

"What in hell!?"

In response, he tried again. Knowing he would succeed this time, he aimed for her arm, wounding her. The blood trickled from the cut, coloring her light gown. She flinched from the pain, as her wound healed slowly before his eyes.

"You were off guard," he stated the obvious.

"What is the matter with you!?" She growled at him.

When he tried to wound her yet again, she lost her patience. She let her fangs loose and within seconds she had him pinned to a nearby tree, his sward falling to the ground. Without hesitation, she placed her sward only a width of a finger away from his heart. Before she could even smirk, knowing she had gotten the upper hand, he placed a hand over her wrist and twisted so that she let out a sharp yell of pain. She dropped the sword in her hand and in a second, he picked it up and had it at her navel, digging into her flesh.

"You can do better," he told her bluntly. "If it were Mikael in my place, you would be dead right now, I assure you."

"Is that what this is about? Why on earth would he come after me? I mean nothing to him."

"You mea—" He cut himself off. "It's not about what you mean to _him_," he proceeded with caution.

"What is it about then?" She asked, wondering if this question might trigger a confession of some sort.

"You ask a lot of questions," he replied bluntly.

"And you answer none of them."

He hesitated. "I'll make you a deal: we keep this up and if you manage to get the upper hand, I will -"

"You will answer any question I may have," she cut him off, "with complete honesty."

"You feel you are in a position to make demands?"

"Yes."

"One question," he agreed reluctantly.

Taking a short breath, she quickly rammed her hand into his chest, placing her finger tightly around his heart. His breathing hitched and he instantly dropped his sword, placing his hand so tightly around her hand that it began to go blue. Still, she did not remove her hand, raising her brows at him in challenge.

His eyes darkened and a feeling of tremendous discomfort washed over him. Never once did he think she would dare to aim for his heart, so the thought of guarding it had never occurred to him. It should have occurred to him, he realized as he felt the pads of her fingertips lightly touching his heart. He was foolish not to consider the possibility, he thought. She was gentle enough that it did not hurt much, but firm enough that he knew he could not remove her hand without having her pull out his heart. He stayed in place, not breathing. Looking at her, he felt an odd sense of confidence that she would not act on her threat. She might hurt him, or give him up to his father, but she would not be the one to kill him. He knew her well enough to know that she would not want to live with his blood on her hands. Believing this was a mistake, he told himself, and yet he could not quite shake the trust he had in her; a trust he did not realize he had until this very moment.

More than anything, his unfamiliar sense of trust served as a perfect example of how his affection towards her was leaving him negligent in regards to his own safety. He silently scolded himself, understanding that he should know better than to place any sort of trust in anyone.

"I believe this qualifies as having the upper hand," she told him. "The element of surprise proves to be quite useful."

She looked down at her hand. In a perverse way, she enjoyed the feeling of having his life in her hands. Or rather, the control it gave her.

"And 'angry' is not a strong enough word for what I feel, _my Lord," _she added.

"You won't do it," he said confidently.

"No, I won't," she assured him, carefully loosening her grip and letting him go. "But I can, despite what you may think. I look harmless, I know that. I also know that I may use it to my advantage."

He took a step back, watching her lick his blood off one of her fingers. Anyone else would have their neck snapped for pulling a stunt like that, he wanted to tell her.

"Are we done with your game?" She asked.

"If you were really as angry with me as you claim to be, you would have pulled my heart out," he told her, taking note of her hostile tone.

"There are emotions stronger than anger," she replied.

"And what would those emotions be?" He inquired.

"I don't believe you're capable of feeling them," she replied, keeping her tone distant. "If you did, then you would be planning a funeral for Elizabeth, not replacing her with a terrified little girl."

He scoffed bitterly. "You should be thanking me, Caroline. The girl is useless for anything other than helping you dress and warming up your bath water. Even her conversation skills are minimal. Simply put: she is rather incompetent."

"And I should thank you?" She asked. She was genuinely curious as to why she should be grateful for receiving a maid that he described as useless.

"You will not care for her, like you cared for Elizabeth," he pointed out, slightly irritated that this was not obvious to her. "When time comes to leave, you may eat her, if you like."

Her eyes widened slightly at his suggestion. "I will not touch her. Neither will you."

He smiled. "Surely you know that one way to get me to do something is by simply telling me not to do it."

"Don't play your games!" She exclaimed, irritably. "Now is not the time. Do you genuinely care so little that she has died?"

He said nothing, keeping his look impassive. Since when were there rules for how to deal with death?

"I believe she loved you," she told him.

"Stop, Caroline," he warned.

"You must feel something!" She said passionately.

"Must I?" He spoke suddenly. "Why? Perhaps so that you may fix my deeply wounded soul?" He asked sarcastically. Taking a few steps towards her, she met his look squarely. "You can't, and I don't quite know why you try."

She stayed silent for a moment, battling the urge to make things clear for him. "You don't know why I try?" She echoed his question in a whisper. "Forgive me, but I believe this makes you a dimwit."

He took a small step back, shaken by her response. "Choose your words carefully."

"I care for you," she told him cautiously. Oddly, she felt a sense of relief, saying these words out loud. "Very much," she added, finding that the world would not implode if she did. "And it does pain me to leave you."

"And yet you insist on leaving…"

"Because you hurt me," she replied quietly. "Sometimes I…sometimes, I think it is not intentional. It's as though you can't quite help yourself."

She stayed silent for a moment. He could have said a thousand words to make her choose to stay, and yet he stayed silent, only making it clear to her that she should not have stayed at all. It appeared as though he cared very little whether she stayed or left, making her feel all that much more hurt.

"I will leave, if you have no plans for a funeral in Elizabeth's honor," she told him, breaking their silence.

He was angered that she was still instant on leaving, although he knew removing her as a weakness would be best for both of them. Still, each time she said those words, he felt an odd, uncomfortable feeling of pain; not like the kind from a physical wound, but the kind that made you wish you could go numb from the inside.

"There will be no funeral. You may go," he dismissed in a flat tone.

She smiled at his dismissal, not knowing whether she should laugh or cry at his cold tone. She turned to leave and he didn't stop her. Throughout the years, there were moments – however brief – where she could swear he cared for her more than he led on. She would catch it sometimes, that brief moment of vulnerability that occasionally made its way to his eyes and screamed to her that he loved her. And yet, he found enough coldness within himself to dismiss her as though she was as useless as the maid he had just given her.

"You promised to answer a question," she told him, turning around suddenly. She gave him a moment to speak, but he did not. "Will you miss me?"

He looked at her, but said nothing. His eyes softened for a moment, the coldness in them disappearing, and she understood that he would. If he told her so, she might have stayed, but she knew he would not. More, she knew that she wanted to be with someone who would be able to tell her how much they would miss her, should she ever choose to leave. She wanted someone who didn't think loving her was a weakness. That someone was not Klaus. This, she should have understood long ago.

With another small smile leaving her lips, Klaus watched her turn around, walking into the house. He knew he could have manipulated her into staying. He knew that with heartfelt words, no matter if he meant them or not, he could have gotten her to stay. He said nothing because words of manipulation seemed useless in this case. Love beyond family was useless; it gave him nothing, only weakened him slowly.

"I will miss you," he whispered in response, knowing that she would not hear him.

* * *

Mary, the new maid, helped Caroline pack her bag. Caroline smiled politely, all the while hoping Mary would stop helping. Her body was shaky from her nerves; she constantly dropped things, and had an unfortunate knack for tripping over her own two feet.

"Do you know where Elijah is?" Caroline asked, wanting to say goodbye to him before leaving.

"Who is he?"

"Klaus' brother – you have not yet met him? He lives here."

"No, miss."

They continued packing in silence. At the sound of a loud thud, Caroline turned around, seeing that Mary had bumped into a table at the corner of the room. A glass of water spilled on the floor from the collision.

"Perhaps, you could just sit!" Caroline finally snapped, irritated. "Or help Klaus with….anything."

Mary gave Caroline an apologetic look, running out of the room. She returned a few seconds later with a cloth to absorb the spilled water. "He left to the room behind the book shelf," she replied. "I dare not follow him."

Caroline moved towards her, picking up the broken glass. "What room?"

"I should not have-"

"What room?" Caroline pressed. _A room behind the bookshelf_, she repeated to herself.

"In the living room, there is a bookshelf…" Mary replied, with her tone a whisper. "It is actually a door – I saw it only by accident – Lord Niklaus disappeared into it a few minutes before I rushed over here to help you."

"Did you hear him say anything? Do you know why he went in there?"

Mary shook her head no.

Curiosity had gotten the best of Caroline. She spent years with Klaus being excluded from every secret he ever shared with his brother. Perhaps this room kept one of those secrets, she thought. She was curious to know what it was that he felt he could not share with her. Dismissing Mary, she told her to inform Klaus that she had left. She was worried that Mary would crumble under the pressure of lying to Klaus, but remained optimistic as she hid behind one of the walls of the estate, waiting for Klaus to leave. It was only after he left, thinking that she was already gone, that she would be able to sneak back in and take a peek at this room Mary spoke of, without fear of getting caught.

While in hiding, she took some time to think of what she would do once she left him. She would compel someone for some land of her own, she thought. Perhaps, she might work as a governess with a wonderful young child. Or perhaps she might make her way to other parts of the world, not bothering to try and make ends meet as though she was a human with no other choice.

Hearing the front door of the house close, Caroline was taken out of her thoughts. Silently, she watched him get on one of his horses and gallop away. Her heart ached, watching him gallop away, knowing it would likely be the last glimpse she would have of him. Pushing the feeling away and forcing herself into a state of numbness, she made her way back into the house and into the living room, where the bookcase was.

"Mary!" She called.

Mary rushed down the spiraling staircase, holding onto the rails to keep from tripping. "Yes?"

"Where did he open it?" Caroline asked, looking at the bookcase.

Mary hesitated.

"Oh, for heaven's sakes, Mary!" Caroline exclaimed. "You have already lied to him once, you can do it again! You don't even have to lie – simply do not mention this happened!"

Not saying a word, Mary pointed to one of the books.

Caroline walked towards the book. It was the bible, Caroline saw. She smiled in twisted amusement at the thought of Klaus reading a bible. With a short breath, she took pulled it off the shelf, revealing a door knob. She twisted it, pulling as hard as she could. Using her vampire strength, she found that the entire shelf moved forward, like a door. She had never seen anything like it, and if it were not for Mary's words she never would have considered the possibility of a bookcase doubling as a door. She couldn't help but feel slightly foolish. After all, she spent a handful of weeks passing by this bookshelf at least once a day, never even thinking that there was anything secretive behind it.

She moved to the side, looking at what the shelf was concealing. In front of her was a steep staircase, which she could only see from the dim light of one of the lit candles. She picked the candle from the wall and made her way down the stairs, carefully. With some hesitation, she proceeded to walk along a narrow hallway, which reeked of horses, until she was met with another door. Finding it was no use to hesitate, now that she made it this far, she opened it.

It was a plain, dark room with a few candles on either side to provide some light. A small table resided in the far left corner, with a few letters. She made her way to them. One read as follows:

* * *

_Dear Edward,_

_This letter is to tell you that I miss you terribly. I think about you all the time. I have not slept for nights, tossing in my bed with thoughts of you. I love you and I miss you, just as I know you love and miss me. I pray that once this business with your father is settled, we will marry and live in peace, and never again be apart. Please reply to this. I wish to hear from you._

_Love,_

_your soon-to-be wife, Dorothy._

* * *

Caroline set the letter down calmly, confused as to why he had it. There were five or six more just like it, but she had no desire to read them. On the other side of the room were six coffins in total; one was open and empty, and the five others were closed. Leaving her lit candle on the table, she made her way to them. Four of them she could not open – not even with all her strength. There was only one which she had not tried to open; the last one. Without much hope, she placed her hands on it lightly, taking a breath before pulling the lid up. Unlike all the rest, she was surprised to find that this one opened with ease.

A small gasp escaped her lips at the sight.

Inside the coffin she saw a familiar face: Elijah. His skin was dry and grey, the veins under his skin prominent, and his limbs lifeless. Placed distinctly over his heart was a dagger with a beautifully carved handle. She placed her hands carefully around it.

Now, it suddenly made sense to her why she had not seen him since yesterday morning, when he and Klaus left for their walk. _Why would Klaus dagger his brother?_ She wondered.

She drew a slow breath, sharply pulling the dagger out.

Everything remained quiet for a few long moments, as though pulling out the dagger affected nothing. Leaning against the coffin, she wondered how angry Klaus would be with her for pulling such a stunt. Would he hurt her? Would Elijah protect her? A more appealing, yet extremely cowardly, thought occurred to her: she could run now. Her plans to leave had not changed, so she could simply run now and spare herself Klaus' wrath. Would Klaus hunt her down? She wondered.

A loud breathless gasp jolted her out of her thoughts. Frightened at the sudden noise, she let out a short yell in response. Looking at Elijah, she saw him slowly coming back to life. Not knowing what to do, for she had only heard of such a thing happening, she found herself at his side. His eyes widened, staring at her in disbelief, and all she could think to do was stay next to him, cupping his face in the palms of her hands.

"You're okay," she tried to console him. "You're at home – you're -"

In a flash, he was out of the coffin and had Caroline pinned against it, his hand tightly at her throat. His hand was so tight around her that she could only manage to cough out his name. He let her go at this, allowing her to soothingly place her hands at her neck.

"Caroline," he breathed.

"Yes!" She exclaimed angrily. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice – not a hand around my throat!"

His eyes widened, surprised at her outburst. "Forgive me," was all he could manage to say.

She said nothing in response, only watching him as he attempted to gather his thoughts. Without hesitation, he made his way to the closed coffins, as though he knew exactly what – or rather, who – was inside. He ran his hand along one of them affectionately. Never before had she seen him look at anything so tenderly.

"All this time…" he looked at Caroline in disbelief, "all this time, they were here."

"Who are they?"

"My family." He tried to open the coffin closest to him, but failed. "Of course he had it spelled," he said to himself bitterly. "Where is he?"

"I don't know. He went out," she replied. "Why did he do this to you?"

He looked at her, hesitating. "We had a dispute of sorts."

She thought back to the last time she saw him. "About the army he wants to build?"

"I need some air," he replied abruptly. Keeping his eyes on her, he gestured to the opened door.

* * *

They walked along the narrow street, away from Klaus' estate. Elijah had not spoken in quite some time and Caroline felt uneasy at the thought of pushing him to speak. As they walked quietly, she thought it was odd that he did not appear to have plans of revenge for his brother. Perhaps he and Klaus were different in this way. She never quite realized this before because in all the time that she had known them, they rarely fought. Still, she knew that if it was Klaus who had been daggered, he would make Elijah come to regret it.

"Niklaus is not a full-blooded vampire," Elijah finally spoke, snapping Caroline out of her thoughts. "Has he told you?"

She shook her head no.

"Niklaus and my father did not get along. When we became vampires, it was discovered that he is not my father's son. He is from a different bloodline. He is part wolf – a hybrid, deadlier than any other species. Our mother saw to it that his werewolf side became supressed, and he wants nothing more than to break her curse."

"So let him break it," she shrugged.

"He will put everyone in danger. He wants to create his own race –"

"To protect him!" She exclaimed, remembering their earlier talk of an army, before Elizabeth interrupted them.

"Love has blinded you," he replied a little too coldly.

Caroline nearly stopped in her tracks at his words. He knew she loved Klaus? How could he know, and yet Klaus remained oblivious to the fact? She brushed the question out of her head, forcing herself to listen to Elijah as he proceeded to tell her that all was not quite so simple. He explained their history with Katherine, informing Caroline of how she had died and Klaus' act of retaliation.

"He killed her whole family," Caroline repeated to herself in a whisper. She was not blind to the kind of man Klaus was, yet this upset her.

"Yesterday, after your slip, he decided to tell me something he has kept hidden. In the midst of slaughtering Katerina's family, he discovered that her father wrote down the events of his days. Klaus rummaged through his papers – our of mere curiosity, I suppose – and came to find that on a day in 1490, Katerina had a daughter."

"Giving him reason to remain hopeful that he may eventually break his curse," Caroline understood.

"The problem, however, is that he cannot seem to figure out to whom this child was given, and he cannot track down Katerina to get the information out of her."

"And why did this lead to…" she struggled for a moment. "…his actions against you?"

"I wish for Katerina's bloodline to remain unharmed. I see no reason for why anyone should have to die for his gain. Years ago, I found a way to save the life of a doppelganger, and yet Niklaus seems insistent on having the doppelganger die during the ritual."

"And you have no qualms about telling me this?"

"Just as he had no qualms about daggering me," Elijah relied a little too quickly.

"I see," she replied quietly, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. "This is your choice of revenge…telling me a secret he wishes I will not know."

He watched her look at the ground as she walked, hiding her face from him. Understanding that he had hurt her, he regretted the quick words he spoke to her. She thought he was using her, he realized. Before he could correct his mistake, she spoke.

"I cannot help with your revenge. I am leaving," she said.

"May I ask where?"

She shrugged. "Anywhere but here."

They stayed quiet for a moment, until he offered his hospitality. "I will ensure you have a home anywhere you wish," he offered.

"I will not be in the middle of your feud," she replied sharply, knowing that her accepting Elijah's offer would likely anger Klaus.

He smiled lightly. "Come back with me. I will make some arrangements and you will be free to leave in a few days. The feud aside, I do wish you happiness. Being in your presence for all these years, I have developed a fondness for you."

She blinked, surprised at the ease with which he said those words. "Thank you," she replied quietly. "But I'm afraid I cannot go back with you. Klaus will be furious once he finds out that I have meddled in his secrets and went against him as I have."

"You will remain unharmed, I assure you." He turned around abruptly; ready to make his way back to the estate, gesturing for Caroline to follow him.

"I would like to stay out here for a little while more," she responded to his gesture, knowing she had no intention of ever returning to Klaus' home. He gave her a look of uncertainty, so she was forced to lie and assure him that she would return. Doing so pained her more than she expected. It was not only Klaus that she would miss, she realized, but Elijah as well. With a smile to mask her sadness, she watched him walk away from her and back to the estate. She could only guess what would happen between him and Klaus, once they met face-to-face. Silently, she wondered if Klaus would loath her for meddling him his secrets.

"It does not matter now," she told herself in a whisper.

"You know, you are not the first woman I have come across today that speaks to herself," a voice behind her said.

Caroline turned around abruptly to the unfamiliar voice. She was met with the sight of a tall, blue-eyed man. His clothes gave away his wealth, his eyes gave away his coldness, and his still heart gave away his immortality.

"You are Caroline, I assume?" The man asked calmly, with his tone as cold as the icy street they stood on. "You may call me Mikael."

Her breathing stopped. She couldn't get words to form. Going off instinct, she whisked to the side of him, in what she understood was a useless attempt to get away, but – just as she knew he would be – he was in front of her within seconds.

"I was afraid you would fight me on this. I guess unpleasantness will have to do."

And with his words, she felt a sharp pain at the back of her head, forcing her to fall to the ground in pain. The pain soon turned into numbness, and n a matter of seconds, she could feel him pick her up. He said something that she could not understand under his breath as he carried her. She wasn't quite certain, but she felt as though there was someone with them – a third person. She could not open her eyes to look. Whatever he did to her had weakened her to a state of physical numbness. No matter how she tried, she could not get herself to move.

Within a few seconds, she lost consciousness.

* * *

**Not sure how you guys would feel about this chapter, since its only about 50% klaroline, but I do hope you enjoyed it!**

**I hope you're not too bothered by the small Klaus/Katherine (and Elijah) history change...I figured I might as well, since I was already messing up his history by adding Caroline into his life in 1537. Like I said, it won't change much in this part of their story, but it does set up a few things for part three/the sequel to this.**

**Anyways, please let me know your thoughts! Please? Pretty please with a Joseph on top?**

**EDIT (b/c reviews): Just because Mikael got her doesn't mean she will go running back to Klaus when she gets free. If she were to stay with Klaus it would not be because of Mikael, but because Klaus makes some sort of drastic change...will he do that? *shrugs***

**(also, reminder: Klaus has not 'uncompelled' her).**


	5. Heaven from Hell

**Again, as always, thank you guys so much for your reviews! I know some of you are getting a bit irritated with me, but I'm pretty sure the majority will likely be happy with the ending (not just this part, but part three as well). Just give it some time lol.**

**So what happened here is that one chapter ended up being too long, so I split it up (otherwise the chapter would be about 10,000 words or so and I'm not a huge fan of chapters that are longer than 5,000 or so...). The next chapter should be posted soon, I hope. I have exams coming up, so I'm not sure how quickly I'll be able to finish it off, but it is nearly done. Again, hopefully I'll have it up soon! **

**Okay, I'll end my note here. I hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

**(I probably say this in every chapter, but please excuse any mistakes you find! I read through the chapter, but it's late so I'm bound to miss some things. Sorry!)**

* * *

_"So, do you think you can tell_

_Heaven from hell?"_

* * *

Klaus walked back into his estate. For a second, he had forgotten that Caroline was no longer there. Something about entering the house made him think that she might be there to greet him, as she always was. He could still remember it; the feeling of having her rush to him, placing soft kisses to his lips. The memory was so vivid; he could almost taste her on his lips.

* * *

_June 14, 1542_

The wind rushed through him, making him feel a sense of exhilaration for the first time in a long time. He could hear Caroline and her horse behind him, trying to catch up. His horse had slowed down, tired. They had been riding for most of the say, so starting a race may have been pushing their luck, he thought. He allowed the horse a minute to stop. Caroline, taking the opportunity to get ahead in their race, rushed in front of him.

"Give her a break, Caroline!" He called after her.

"She doesn't need one yet!" She called back.

He watched Caroline for a moment; she rode her horse with such astounding confidence. She was beautiful, he thought; her hair was glossy against the bright sunlight, falling against her back with each gallop her horse took; her eyes were lit with happiness; her smile was the brightest he had ever seen it. If heaven had a face, it would be her face, he decided.

With a small smile, he galloped after her. He knew it was useless; he allowed his horse too long of a break and now he would never catch up to her.

"Caroline, take pity on the horse!" he called.

She smiled, hearing him struggle to catch up. Her smile vanished in seconds, hearing a loud thud behind her. She turned back, seeing him lifeless on the green ground under him. Without much thought, she stopped her horse and got off, rushing to his side. His eyes were closed and his leg was wounded.

"Klaus?" She whispered, cupping his face in her hands. She felt his stubble under her fingertips as she lightly tried to shake him awake. "Open your eyes this second!" She commanded in a whisper.

He tried his best to contain himself, but he couldn't. A smile escaped him, quickly turning into a stifled laugh.

She looked at him laughing. Confused at first, it quickly dawned on her that he had tricked her into stopping. Looking at his wounded leg, she saw it healing quickly. Looking back at him, she saw his piercing green eyes looking up at her. She hit his shoulder playfully, but he only laughed lightly in response. He looked at her with the most sincere smile and she couldn't help but smile back at him.

"You scared me," she told him.

The grin remained on his face. "You forget I'm immortal."

"Immortal or not, you were not moving."

He watched her – she watched him, also. She stayed by his side, biting her lower lip in an attempt to get the smile off her face. Very lightly, he could feel her hand on his cheek. Any other time, he would have put an end to the moment. Not this time. He couldn't find the strength within himself to stop it. A little reluctantly, he decided that his life would not end if he were to allow himself a moment to enjoy her caresses, to enjoy her touch.

Slowly, he felt her connect her lips to his. It was soft, tender; perhaps more tender than any kiss they had ever shared before. There was no anger or urgency in this kiss; only pure affection. Growing a little uncomfortable at the sincerity of the emotions displayed, he opened his eyes, wanting to pull away, but she moved over him and continued her kisses. From his lips, she kissed the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then his mouth again, and he couldn't help but close his eyes from the feeling of it all. She kissed at his neck and he took a breath, understanding now – perhaps for the first time – that he wanted nothing more than to have her stay with him for all eternity. He opened his eyes again, feeling her lips at his skin, loathing the part of himself that wanted to be kissed in the way that she was kissing him.

"Caroline," he whispered her name. Silently, he hoped that she would stop, knowing he lacked the will to stop her himself. She pulled away from his softly, still leaning on him, and looked down at him. Her eyes were filled with more warmth than he had ever seen from anyone who looked at him. For a moment, he tried to tell himself that she wasn't really looking at him. There was no reason that he could think of to explain why she would ever look at him with such warmth. "What was that for?"

She brushed his lower lip with her index finger, smiling. "You lost the race. I took pity on you, my Lord."

"Actually," he began his sentence without a single rational thought, "I think I won."

* * *

"You idiot," he spoke to himself, remembering the memory as vividly as if it happened just a day before. "You've won nothing."

He walked into the kitchen, pouring himself a drink to take the edge off. It would help him concentrate on Mikael, rather than his failures with Caroline, he hoped. He was wrong. Thoughts of his war with Mikael were paling by comparison to his thoughts of Caroline. He wondered what she was doing now, and if she missed him the way he missed her (although admitting that he missed her was something he was reluctant to do). She's gone, he told himself. One less weakness is one less problem, he continued. And yet her being gone seemed to be more distracting than if she were near him. He couldn't think about anything other than her; what she was doing, where she might be, who she might be with. His anger at this had gotten the better of him, the glass in his hand smashing in his grip.

A gasp came from a few steps away.

He turned to the sound, seeing Mary staring at his bloody hand. She was watching it heal and he smirked at her confusion.

"Caroline told me not to touch you," he informed.

Veins appeared under his eyes as he understood that it wasn't alcohol that would help him forget his mistakes, but blood. No, not blood - rather, the feeling of someone's life in his hands and the feeling of control that came with it. Mary, seeing his eyes shift from a green-blue to yellow and bloodshot-red, attempted to run. It was laughable, he thought, that she believed she might get away. Taking a butcher knife from the counter of the kitchen, he was in front of her in a flash, running his tongue along his top teeth in preparation.

Mary found her eyes going from his darkening eyes to the knife in his grip, not knowing where to look. "I've done nothing to you," she whispered in a shaky voice.

"Sweetheart, life is filled with moments of injustice," he replied with a sadistic smile. He took her wrist in his grip and as she attempted to free herself, he tightened his hold. The sound of her wrist breaking was accompanied by a loud shriek that left her lips and pierced through his eardrums. He flinched at the annoying sound and ran the blade of his knife along her wrist. She sobbed our loudly, and he yelled at her to keep quiet. Bringing her wrist to his lips, he tasted her blood. "It'll have to do," he shrugged.

"You're a monster," she spat out at him.

"I was called a dimwit earlier today – by someone whose opinion I hold in a much higher regard than yours, I might add – so 'monster' is not as insulting as you may think it is," he replied briskly, his words coated with anger and bitterness. Very abruptly, he had his hand at her neck, cutting off her air supply. She clawed at his hand frantically, but his grip remained as strong as ever. "Still, you did attempt to hurt my feelings, so perhaps I should retaliate?"

He eyed her, looking from her face to her feet. If she wasn't so petrified and drenched in her own tears, she would be much more appealing, he thought. As far as looks went, she didn't look too bad. Not quite up to his standards, but not too far below them. Regardless, he wasn't looking for anything other than a one-time feeding.

"I frighten you," he observed, putting the knife away. "Good."

With a tug to her hair, he forced her to tilt her head back and expose the veins of her neck. Carelessly, he ripped through her main artery. Sucking at the wound he created, his thoughts wondered to Caroline and the way she tasted that first night he had her. Angered by his own thoughts, he gripped at Mary's shoulders and tossed her to the wall of the kitchen.

"Why can't I stop thinking about her?" he yelled out, to no one in particular. Mary looked at him with sincere confusion, but he didn't care to explain himself.

"Tell me about her," Mary suggested, helplessly caressing her wound.

He laughed. "Nice try, little girl."

"Can't stop thinking about her – a woman!" She spoke quickly, not knowing how else to save herself. "Did you love her? You should tell her that – all women want to hear that. I would love it if - Did you leave her or did she leave you? Perhaps, to help get her out of your head you should talk to someone about her. I don't know what in the devil's name you are, but surely like anyone else you need to talk-"

"Stop talking, I beg you," he spat out after spending the next minute listening to Mary's mindless rambles.

"Sorry."

"Did I love her, you ask? Its almost as though you _want _to die…" He took a step towards her and removed her hand from the wound. Tilting her head back, he brought himself closer to the blood, inhaling the smell of it. She shivered under his grip, a whimper leaving her. "Do not make a noise," he commanded, irritated. With this command, he brought his fangs to her neck. The warm blood traveled down his neck as he drained her, forgetting – if only for a moment – about Caroline. Mary was losing consciousness in his arms, but he didn't care. He kept going, drinking with unleashed hunger, until she was dead in his arms.

"Niklaus," a voice called.

The voice was all too familiar. He recognized it instantly. He turned to face the man before him. They were silent for a brief second and the only sound between them was the sound of Mary's lifeless body dropping to the floor with a light thud.

"Elijah," Klaus finally spoke the name.

* * *

"Caroline, darling," Mikael spoke with a fake kindness, "wake up."

Caroline opened her eyes slowly, finding that her eyelids were still heavy. The blurry darkness subsided and she saw that she was in a room, like a cellar. There were no windows to let light in. Seeing another woman playing with her daylight necklace, she was thankful for the lack of windows. Looking around, she saw a blacksmith's forge and guessed that he wanted to burn her. There were knives and swards, and she knew he would use them on her. Trying to move, she found that her hands and legs were tied to the chair she was on. She could not break out, even with all her strength. Looking at Mikael, she saw him laughing at her efforts.

"He won't care that you took me," she informed him. She felt weak, so her words slurred slightly.

"Perhaps you're right," Mikael shrugged. "I've noticed you have spent quite some time with him. I couldn't quite resist the opportunity to take you."

She said nothing, only staring at him with distaste.

"Who are you to him?" Mikael inquired.

"I don't know," she replied honestly.

He smiled, believing her words to be lies. His pupils dilating, he compelled her to answer the question again. When she replied with the same words, he glanced at his witch with curiosity. Bringing his nose to her, he sniffed for vervain, but felt no traces of it on her. "You really don't know," he said.

"I don't," she replied, "As you can see, I'm quite useless to you. Let me go."

He scratched at his brow. "Actually, I have a better solution. My witch here – you may call her Ann – she will take a little peak inside your head. Won't you Ann?"

She hesitated.

Mikael smiled. "I wasn't _really_ asking you, Ann."

Given that she could barely keep her head up, she guessed the witch would not have much difficulty in this attempt. Trying to stay conscious, Caroline could vaguely hear the witch cast her spell, before her eyelids dropped and her world became colored with the vividness of her memory.

* * *

_April 4, 1539_

With her head in the pillows of the bed, she felt him behind her, kissing down her back. His mouth was warm on her skin, only adding to her arousal. One of his hands cupped her breast, causing her to shiver from her desire. Not yet inside her, she felt his hardness between her legs. He moved so that her sex rubbed against his. It was torture, she thought, to have him so close and yet not inside her.

"My god," she moaned into the pillow.

"Not quite, sweetheart," he smirked.

Just then, his hand moved from her chest to the spot between her legs. Moving a finger into her wetness, he began circling her clit, causing her to arch her spine at his touch. The pace, slow at first, soon quickened. Coming to a slow stop, he moved himself inside her, revelling in the feeling of her tight walls around his cock. Swallowing thickly, he began to move.

With her eyes heavy and her breathing ridged, she moved herself along his erection frantically, with the need to find release overwhelming her.

* * *

"You're his whore?" Mikael's voice intruded on her memories.

Caroline opened her eyes, the memory fading. She flushed scarlet, wondering how much of that memory anyone besides her was able to see. If there was a way to simply fall off the earth, she wished she could do it, for that would be less embarrassing than this. She dropped her head to look at the dirty ground, the humiliation of having such a memory made public getting the better of her.

"I don't think so," the witch finally spoke in response to Mikael's question.

At his urging, the witch continued her spell, causing Caroline to involuntarily lead them to a different memory.

* * *

_August 23, 1591_

Italy was absolutely beautiful, Caroline thought to herself as she idly next to Klaus, overlooking a small lake. It was calm and the water moved to the rhythm of the wind. This was everyone's dream, she tried to convince herself. Everyone wants sit idly in front of such a beautiful view next to a handsome man, as though nothing in the world could harm you. Still, as calm and beautiful as it was, she couldn't help but feel bored. They had been out there for an hour and not a word was said between them. She looked to Klaus casually; he was painting. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"You don't like it?" He asked, his eyes never leaving his work.

"Its fine," she replied, not explaining her scoff. He didn't question her further and so they remained quiet for a few more minutes. "Why do you paint?" She asked, breaking their short silence. "Most of your days you seem to be in constant stress or worry."

"And?"

"_And_…then when you have a minute to relax, you choose to do something that requires such a great deal of concentration."

"I like control," he replied simply, still distracted by his work.

"But you're not controlling anything," she told him. Leaning to look at his work, she explained, "Right now, you're painting what you see. It's very good…the colors match perfectly."

"Thank you," he replied. It was a question. He wasn't entirely certain as to what her point was.

"They match so perfectly in fact, that one may get the impression that you are not controlling anything at all. You are painting exactly what you see…and you cannot control what you see."

He smiled slightly at her observation. "But the choice to paint what I see is an act of control. Anyways, there's more to it than just that."

She waited for him to say something, but he remained quiet. "Tell me," she suggested. He said nothing and she couldn't help but smile at his emotionless expression. "Come on, cure me of my boredom!"

"The world is rather loud, sometimes," he told her. "When I focus on a view, or even a color, or the smallest stroke, the world gets a little quieter."

"Well that sounds like a peaceful world to live in."

"It can be."

"…and dreadfully boring," she added with a smile. He wasn't looking at her, but he was smiling, so she knew he was not offended. She wasn't entirely certain what possessed her to do what she did next, but in a flash she took his work and threw it into the water in front of them.

"Caroline!" He yelled out at her, getting off his chair.

"Oh, I'm sorry – did you like it? Go after it!" She encouraged, getting up with him. He looked at her with such a harsh expression that for a moment she thought she pushed him too far. She shifted in her spot uncomfortably. Just then, she saw the briefest light smile cross his face, and in a flash – in less than a second – she felt herself flying into the body of water.

"You threw it in there – you go after it!"

A deep, loud laugh left her, echoing around their surroundings. She ran her hand through her wet hair and brought it down to her mouth, in a failed attempt to suppress her laughter.

She couldn't stop laughing and he found himself smiling with her. "This makes you happy?"

"I should like to live in a world like this – a loud world, filled with laughter and happiness. Peaceful quiet is nice, but loud laughter is better, I think!"

He stayed in place, smiling at her.

"Aren't you going to go after me? Come on, what if I drown here, all by my lonesome?"

"Immortality makes that possible…" he replied sarcastically.

"Well, then pretend!" She called out. When he made no move in her direction, her smile slowly began to vanish. "I don't like the world you live in," she told him.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied calmly.

He watched her in the water for a moment. She didn't say anything else, but her look shifted from sheer happiness to misery in a matter of seconds. He realized then, in those few seconds, that she wasn't lying: she didn't like the world he lived in. Oddly enough, in those few seconds, he didn't much like his world either. Reluctantly, he took a few steps towards her and, within half a second, he found himself in front of her. A smile slowly colored her face and he found that he was smiling with her.

"Your world just got a little better," she told him, placing her arms around his neck.

* * *

The memory slowly became distant, allowing Caroline to open her eyes again and face her reality.

"He cares for you, that fool," Mikael said with a small laugh.

"Not more than he cares for himself," Caroline replied, slowly raising her head up. "Let me go, I'm of no use to you. He'd rather let me die than face you."

Mikael leaned back on his chair casually, placing one leg over the other. "Well, I guess we will just have to wait and see, won't we?"

"Leave him alone. He's done nothing to you." She tugged at her chains, the hope of getting free still in the back of her mind. She could feel Mikael glaring at her. "Don't stare," she scolded against her better judgment.

"It's as though he's learned nothing from the ill-fated romp with Tatia…"

She wasn't entirely certain how to respond to that. She had only briefly heard of Tatia. The way Klaus spoke of her, Caroline had always assumed she was nothing more than a passing fancy, but perhaps there was more to it. Regardless, it didn't appear as though Mikael was looking for a response of any sort, so she remained quiet.

"You'll excuse me, sweetheart," Mikael spoke again. "I will be back in a moment." He let out an involuntary groan as he got out of his chair. Making three or four steps away from her, he stopped abruptly and said, "Ann, keep an eye on her."

And with that, Caroline watched him leave. At the sound of him walking further and further away, the urge to free herself began to grow stronger. The opportunity to get free had presented itself, she realized without hesitation. Every inch of her body shook from the urge to leave and run to a place Mikael would never find her.

Acting almost beyond her control, she pulled her wrists from the chains. Biting her lower lip to suppress a yell of pain, she drew blood. Her wrists broke as she made attempts to free them, her fingers dislocating as she pulled at them. A small sob left her from the pain, yet her will to leave was stronger. Her body shook from the intense mixture of urgency, fear, and pain.

Teary-eyed, she looked to the witch, who kept her eyes on her, never once stopping her. "Are you going to help me?" She asked her.

* * *

"Hello, Niklaus," Elijah spoke, his voice very controlled. "Are you surprised to see me?"

"How did you get out?"

Glancing at Mary's dead body, Elijah let his brother make his own conclusions, and when he guessed that Mary let him out, Elijah simply raised his brows in agreement. Mary couldn't exactly tell anyone the truth now, could she?

He managed to stay calm for a few more moments, but it was when Klaus had the audacity to offer him a drink that Elijah finally lost it, throwing his first punch. Klaus retaliated quickly. The fought continued mercilessly, until nearly everything in the kitchen was upside down. With a hand around his throat, Elijah had Klaus pinned to the wall. It wasn't long before he got free, making his way to the opposite side of the room.

"You swore loyalty to me," Klaus reminded him, choking slightly in his attempts to get some air back into his lungs.

"Always and forever," Elijah remembered quickly. "Need I remind you that we all swore loyalty to each other; you, me, and Rebekah. You broke your oath of loyalty to us years ago."

"And you have every right to be angry with me –"

"Shall I say a thank you, for your permission?"

"I need to break the curse, Elijah." Klaus made his way towards his brother, adding, "I will not let anything stand in my way. Here and now, choose to be my brother." He waited for Elijah to speak, but he remained silent, playing on Klaus' impatient nature. "I daggered you once, I can easily do it again."

"Entirely the reason for why I will not trust you again."

Before Klaus could reply, the sound of a window breaking forced them out of their argument. Without a look in Elijah's direction, he made his way to where the noise came from. In his living room, he saw a rock on the floor. It was tossed with such force that the floor had cracked lightly where the rock had touched it. Attached to the rock was a small piece of paper, which he read. Instantly recognizing the writing, he knew it was from Mikael. His message was rather simple. It read as follows:

_I have Caroline in my possession. If it is your wish that I spare her life, I urge you to come and face me, you coward._

_- Mikael._

* * *

**I'm not sure how you guys feel about the flashbacks, since they were a bit more light-toned than the rest of this fic. I wrote them in as a bit lighter not because I want to turn Klaus into a puppy, but because I wanted you guys to understand the characters a little bit more - more of why they are drawn to one another. Also, I wanted you guys to see that as dark as their romance can be sometimes, they also had their moments of happiness. Hopefully the flashbacks served that purpose. **

**Anyways, please let me know what you guys think! Your reviews make my day and I'm not even kidding when I say that!**


	6. I Always Will

**Oh wow you guys, how many of you still remember this fic? It's been a while, hasn't it. I'm so sorry about that! The show hasn't been working for me lately and I've been feeling less and less inspired, so this took much longer than I originally thought. I'm sorry to those who had to wait a while for this update and I hope you enjoy it.**

**Also, thank you so much for all the kind reviews you all have left me! I really appreciate it so much and it makes me happier than I can even explain!**

**Okay, here goes…**

**(sorry if you find mistakes. I'm too lazy to read through it again)**

* * *

_"Oh, I don't love you_

_but I always will."_

* * *

Klaus stared at the letter blankly for about half a minute, his finger itching to crumple up the piece of paper and throw it out the window it came thought. He always knew this day would come; the day she would be used against him. Looking at the letter, he understood just how stupid and senseless it was to keep her with him as long as he did. What was worse was that, if given the opportunity to do things differently, he would not. With this understanding, he labeled himself an idiot.

"What is it?" Elijah took the paper from Klaus' grip. He read the note to himself, quickly. Noticing faint ink marks on the back, he turned the paper over, finding directions on the back. "A ship?" He asked aloud, finding this precise location rather unusual.

"An abandoned, barely floating piece of shit," Klaus informed quietly, his choice of words making his anger quite clear.

"You know of it?"

"Yes. We've been there before."

"We?"

He took a breath. "I was there before…with Caroline."

* * *

_London_

_September, 1595_

"You cannot come to a place and not look around," Caroline told Klaus with certainty, as they walked along a deserted forest. The fallen branches broke at her feet and the leaves of the trees shielded them form the sunlight above.

"Looking around is one thing, but traveling along forests, without a particular aim is quite another," he replied. "We only have a few hours until the sun goes down. It's a full moon," he informed.

"Will you protect me?" She asked, turning around abruptly, her voice carrying a hint of playfulness. She looked down, feeling his hands on each of her shoulders as he avoided bumping into her. With a short seductive smile she took his hands and moved them to her waist, pressing herself against him. As she raised her hands and softly caressed the back of his neck, she urged him to respond. "Shall I take that as a no?" She asked.

He removed her hands from his neck. "Don't ask questions you know answers to."

She stayed in place as he walked away from her. For a moment, she was bothered by his response, the sudden coldness of his voice as he spoke his words. No matter how many years they spent together, she could never quite get accustomed to his shifting moods. "And what if I don't know?" She asked, her tone matching the coldness in his.

He turned around at her question, his eyes finding hers. "I will protect you," he told her firmly, watching her reaction. She smiled at him, and he wished that he was being completely truthful. After all, there were some things he would not protect her from and he knew it, but his half-truthful response made her happy and he was in no mood to destroy it. "Shall we keep going? You know I don't like matters of the heart."

She nodded lightly, feeling his hand on her lower back as he urged them along. They walked for a few moments along the small trail, lost in their own silent thoughts, before she removed a large branch, revealing an unexpected view.

In front of them was a small body of water, with a large ship trapped between the land and a fallen tree. The ship was large – big enough for hundreds – almost too big for the lake in which it was abandoned. Grass and other greens had begun to grow around it, with branches claiming the abandoned ship as their own.

"Someone specifically placed this here. Why would they leave it?" Klaus asked quietly, more to himself than to her.

"So that we may find it," she replied, making her way to it. There was small bridge extended from the ship, which invited her onto it. Klaus followed her only a half a step behind.

The ship was rather dirty and unkempt, making it clear that it had been abandoned for a while. The view from it, however, was one of the most beautiful things Caroline had ever seen; the simple view of a small lake and the forest, which she and Klaus travelled through. It was calm, quiet, wonderful. Tearing her eyes from the view, she walked along the ship, the floors creaking under her feet. Moving a few steps forward, she was met with a set of steps that led her to a lower part of the ship. There was a door, she saw, and she made her way towards it. With her hands tight around the dusty handle, she couldn't open it on the first try.

"Don't bother," she head Klaus say.

She shrugged it off, not curious enough to force the door open. She made her way back up the steps, finding Klaus. She smiled a small smile at the sight of him. He faced away from her, looking at the view, with his shoulders wide and strong, his curls falling from his had, and his legs lean and long.

"Do you want to hear a secret?" She asked, breaking a long silence.

"Can't be much of a secret if you'd so willingly share it," he replied, not looking at her.

She shrugged. "Fine, I won't tell you."

He heard her moving away from him. "Tell me."

"I've changed my mind."

He chuckled in amusement. "As you wish, but rest assured that one day I might have a secret and I won't –"

"It isn't much of a threat. You never tell me your secrets," she cut him off.

He paused. "Well, that's not quite true…" he turned around to face her, leaning his body against the edge of the ship carelessly. "I told you I would protect you; that was a secret."

"Hmm." She looked at him. "Why keep such a thing secret?"

He smiled, letting out a small breath. "I won't tell you. You see, _that_ is another secret." She rolled her eyes at him with a hint of a smile crossing her face, and he looked down at the floor for a moment before looking up at her from under his lashes. "Now, what is this not-very-secret-secret of yours?"

"Well…" she began, taking a few steps towards him. Her hands found a spot on his chest and he looked down at her fingers for a moment before looking back up at her. His eyes were so wonderfully green against the sunlight, she thought to herself. She moved herself closer so that her chest and pelvis pressed against his, moving to ensure that her body rubbed against his groin. She smiled when a small groan left his lips; she liked that sound. She repeated her movement and this time he swallowed. She liked that sound even more. Pressing her lips against his ear, she whispered, "My secret is that... I would like you to be my first."

"Your first?" He repeated after her, confused.

Fighting a smile, she captured his earlobe between her teeth and then released it. "My first," she confirmed. Pressing her lips against a spot on his neck, she felt him move under the fabric of his breeches. Quite deliberately, she moved against him and released a small, soft moan from her lips. He hardened at that, she was sure of it. "You see, I've never been with a man…on a ship, that is," she explained, with her lips against his skin and her hands slowly moving to the laces of his breeches.

With a small moan to mask a short, sharp pain, she bit the inside of her lip. Blood filled her mouth. It wasn't the same as human blood, she understood, but enough to make him crave. When she kissed him, she heard the sound of his veins appearing under his eyes. His tongue moved softly around her mouth, her blood igniting his hunger. She moaned into his mouth. With her hands slipping down into his pants, wrapping her fingers around his cock, she felt him harden from every sound and every touch.

His fingers caught the back laces of her dress and untied them, allowing the dress to fall from her shoulders. He licked at the small bloody cut with hunger and want, until his control began to waver. As if hearing his silent wish, she tilted her head back, exposing her neck. He ran his thumb along one of her veins, before biting into her neck. She laughed, and he could feel the vibrations of the sound on his lips. With her hand still teasingly touching his cock, he moved himself against her hand in a frantic attempt to satisfy both desires at once.

With a light-hearted smile, she moved away from him, holding up her dress over her chest. Her eyes moved from his red, blood-laced lips, to his hungry yellow eyes.

He moved his thumb across his bottom lip and into his mouth, his tongue collecting the remains of her blood.

"And to think you weren't eager to hear such a secret…" She said softly, slowly taking another step away. His body was against hers in a flash, and she smiled when he deliberately pressed his hardness against her. She looked down and then back up at him, her expression as innocent as she could manage.

"You are past the point of teasing," he informed, with his voice low and slightly shaking from his desire. "Because right now," he continued, "I don't want you to _be_ with me, as you so tenderly put it."

"Then what do you want, my Lord?"

"I want you to fuck me," he replied bluntly, pulling her dress over her and tossing it to the floor.

In one swift motion, he pulled her down and over top of him. Ridding him of his pants, she ran a hand from his chest to his erection, moving herself onto it. She watched as he let his head fall back and his eyes close, reveling in the feeling of her walls tightly around his cock. He placed his thumb at her clit as she moved over him, causing her to moan. He urged her to pick up her speed, and when she did all his coherent thoughts became non-existent. She rode him quickly, her head tilted back in ecstasy, until they were both pushed to the point of blindness, exploding and quivering with the pleasures of release.

He closed his eyes as a state of complete and utter relaxation washed over him, and she stayed sitting astride him. The fingers of her left hand moved along his skin softly and he placed a hand over hers to stop the movement. Opening his eyes after a moment, he looked up at her; she was looking back at him. And then she smiled at him, softly, sweetly.

He pressed his lips together, forming a light smile, mimicking hers.

"I like this ship," she told him with a flirty smile.

"I do, too."

* * *

The sound of Elijah heading towards the door forced Klaus out of his memories. He was in front of his brother within seconds, keeping him from the door. "We're not going," he told Elijah without the slightest hesitation in his voice. He spent years on the run, keeping himself safe, and there was no way that Mikael would win this game. "He's trying to manipulate me. I won't let him."

Elijah stared at him in disbelief. "That girl has done you far more good than harm, and you're willing to let her die?"

He pressed his lips together into a hard line, reminding himself that, above all, he had to look out for himself. His need to stay alive, to win this game Mikael was playing with him, needed to overpower his selfish desire to keep Caroline by his side. He lived without her once and he could easily do it again. She would die, and he would not care, he told himself.

"Better her than I," he replied. His voice was cold, unfeeling, and successfully deceiving.

He wanted to find her, to save her and keep her. But that was a secret only he would know.

With a final glance – one that carried more disappointment than Klaus had ever seen – Elijah stepped to the side of him and headed for the door. He said nothing in response, never once looking back to see if Klaus had followed him.

* * *

"Help me!" Caroline begged. Tears fell from her face from the pain of the chains breaking her skin down to the bone. "Please!"

"I can't."

Caroline looked up at the witch; her voice was harsh, yet her expression showed regret and desire to help.

The need to leave made Caroline ache so much that she could feel her body shake, and she tried to pull free from the chains against her control. She suppressed a cry. The witch was at her side, but by then it was too late; Mikael walked back into the room. Caroline looked up at him and as the overwhelming need to leave slowly lessened her expression grew more hateful than ever before.

His eyes scanned the room and fixated on Caroline. "You tried to leave?"

She stayed quiet, and he couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. From the corner of his eye, he could see the witch divert her gaze, making it clear that she was contemplating helping Caroline. Taking a step closer, he compelled Caroline to stay sitting, to not try and break free. Her skin healed as she stopped fighting against the chains, and she looked up at him with complete and utter hatred.

"He won't come here," she told him.

"I disagree, darling. I do, however, feel compelled to ask why you are so certain?"

"I left him. He hates me."

"He does not," an unexpected voice echoed from across the room, forcing Caroline's eyes to widen with a mix of confusion and surprise.

"Elijah," Mikael recognized the voice right away.

"Hello, father."

Mikael let out a bitter chuckle, covering his mouth lightly with the fingers of his left right hand. "Klaus sent you to do his bidding."

"Let the girl go," Elijah said slowly, his voice calm and controlled, unlike his father's. "Klaus won't be coming for her."

Caroline lowered her head, feeling a dull ache at Elijah's words. She wasn't expecting Klaus to walk heroically through the doors of her holding room, yet it appeared she had a glimmer of hope that he might. That glimmer of hope died with Elijah's words. She scolded herself for not knowing better. Next time, she vowed, she would know better.

"You're on the wrong side of the battle, son," Mikeal spoke again after a short silence.

"There is no _right_ side."

A half smile formed on Mikael's face, a smile that Caroline found oddly hopeful. "Has your loyalty to your bastard brother not made you happy?"

Elijah pressed his lips together lightly and briefly glanced at Caroline; she looked back at him. It was an interesting expression, he noticed for a moment. It was odd, he thought, that a person in her position was not begging – not even silently, with a passing glance – for her life. Rather, she looked back at him with a look that didn't give away a single emotion that she might have been feeling. He made two or three steps towards her before he found himself slammed against the filthy walls of the ship, his father's forearm at his neck.

"Do it, I dare you," he spoke, the air quickly leaving his lungs.

Mikael shrugged, not giving value to his son's words. "You must know it was never you I was after."

"You were after Niklaus…and you were after me. As you said, I picked the wrong side." Feeling something digging into his flesh, he looked down, seeing that Mikael was holding a dagger. Clinging to the desperate hope that his father would not kill him, he felt his nerves rise. "Do it, father," he replied in a deceivingly calm tone.

Just then, in less than a second, Mikael let out a scream.

Caroline's eyes widened in horror, watching Mikael fall to his knees. The witch was behind him casting a spell, Caroline saw, and the dagger had fallen from Mikael's hand. For one second she closed her eyes, only to hear Elijah shout "No!" and force her to tear her lids open again. Everything changed in that one second.

Mikeal was burning on the ground, daggered, and Elijah stood a few feet away from the body with a hand covering his mouth. He wasn't the one who killed Mikael, she thought to herself. He couldn't have been.

"Caroline…"

She heard the sound of a voice she knew all too well, realizing that she was correct. Elijah hadn't killed Mikael; Klaus did. Before she could utter a word, he was in front of her, her face in his hands, hearing his voice as he calmly released her from his earlier compulsion. He freed her from the chains effortlessly, wordlessly reminding her just how much stronger he was than her, and all the while she could not think of a single thing to say to him.

_He compelled me_, she thought to herself for the third or fourth time. This was something she trusted he would never do, no matter his intentions.

"Are you okay?" He said under his breath, lifting her to her feet.

She stared at him blankly, without a single word coming to mind. She turned to Mikael's burnt corpse and then to Elijah's torn expression.

Elijah looked at her; a curl fell over his brow, softening his face. "Leave," he said, his voice rather soft. "Go," he urged in a whisper.

Somehow she thought that maybe he didn't mean leave this room, but leave Klaus. She took a few steps towards the door and opened it. Seeing the familiar steps, she made her way up, the floors creaking with every step. As she got to the top, she looked around, instantly realizing where she was being held. She scoffed to herself, making her way off the boat. She could feel Klaus behind her every step of the way.

He called after her and she turned around abruptly. "I have nothing nice to say to you," she informed him.

"A 'thank you' would suffice."

She stopped dead in her tracks. "Thank you? Thank you?" She smiled, although none of it was funny. "Thank you for compelling me. Thank you for hesitating to come find me when it was _your_ father holding me prisoner. Thank you for –"

"I hesitated," he agreed. "Yet I am here, am I not?"

"_I_ wouldn't have hesitated."

"You would never be in my position," he informed, his voice becoming cold.

"I wouldn't have hesitated," she repeated. "I would never attempt to take away your free will…your control. I would never deliberately hurt you."

"I gather we are no longer discussing this incident."

"No."

He said nothing else.

"You don't understand, do you?" She said after a moment's silence.

Again, he did not speak.

Growing irritated, she spat out, "I hate you," instantly regretting her words. He took a step away from her, as though recovering from a physical pain of some sort, and she took a step in his direction. "I love you," she corrected herself. "Sometimes," she added. "Some days more than others."

He looked at her with such sincere confusion, torn between her words, and she found herself struggling to stand. A tear rolled down her face because, in that one split second, every emotion she had ever felt for him came crashing down on her and she could barely speak from it all.

"You're selfish. I hate that," she told him. "You're cruel."

She was silent for a minute, but he found that he had nothing to say. Was he to dispute her statement? Is that what she was waiting for?

"I used to think that you were cruel to everyone, except me," she finally spoke again. "You hurt me…often, but never was it deliberate…until a few days ago. You hurt me, all the while _knowing_ that it would hurt me." After this she paused, certain that he might say something, but he remained silent. "I suppose that makes me a fool," she continued, "because I do still love you."

"Believe me, you do not. You don't need to, just as I do not need to love you," He told her, trying not to give her confession much importance. The words she spoke made him uncomfortable. He wanted to believe that she might love him, and the desire to believe her made him want to lash out. He refused to be some love-sick fool, and he refused to believe empty confessions of love.

"Then why are you here? Why am I here? Why keep me with you for so many years?"

"You're a good fuck," he replied bluntly, and within seconds he felt a sharp pain on his left cheek, burning from her slap. He moved a hand over his cheek, lightly, smiling bitterly at her. "Amongst other things," he added.

"You're a coward. You feel something for me and you know it, and you're too scared to admit it. But I'm done,' she announced. "I'm done waiting for you to admit it. You're not worth it. You never were. I was just too much of a fool to realize it earlier."

_You're not worth it_, he repeated her words to himself.

He watched her walk away from him, fighting the need to stop her. She was right; he felt something for her, and he knew it. He wanted her – all of her, regardless of if she loved him or not. But Mikael was not the only one with the power to use her against him, he reminded himself. And for that reason, being with her would always cause him more agony than bliss. So, he stayed in place, watching her walk away, every inch of him wanting to go after her.

She never turned back.

He closed his eyes, feeling her sharp slap across his face, remembering the sight of her tears falling from her eyes, and the pure look of hatred as she turned away from him.

Nothing ends, unless it ends badly, he thought to himself.

"Goodbye, Caroline."

* * *

**So this is actually the last chapter, and Caroline finally left him. It leaves on a bit of an angsty note, which I guess works for this overall angsty story. Needless to say, it wasn't a healthy relationship and they weren't quite ready for one another. Right person, wrong time, I think.**

**There may or may not be a part three to this overall story. Hopefully, I feel inspired enough to write and post it. I will say that the third part to this story will be a bit more bright and fun, less angst. I hope some of you will read it, if I post it :)**

**Ok, so bye…? (please leave reviews! Please?)**


	7. Part 3: Always

Hi everyone!

First off, i really want to thank you for all the wonderful reviews that you guys left me! It really means the world to me!

I'm adding this chapter to let you know that I did upload a third part to my account, titled '**Always**'. If you want to, feel free to check it out and I hope you enjoy it :)


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